


A Fatal Mistake

by Capri_Sun



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bylaude, Claudeleth, F/M, Gen, Golden Deer, I'm a sucker for angst, Mind control trope, Trauma, verdant wind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-01-26 17:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21377656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capri_Sun/pseuds/Capri_Sun
Summary: The Golden Deer thought that defeating Nemesis would've been the end of the war.  They never thought that all their training would come down to the final battle against their beloved professor, Byleth.  Claude has to remain strong to lead his allies to victory against the one person he felt he could trust fully in this war-torn world.(Alternate ending to the Golden Deer route)
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 54
Kudos: 248





	1. A Heartfelt Shot

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in 10 years (and also my first one on AO3), so please bear with me as I get used to the new platform! 
> 
> This fic is inspired from a tweet I saw about an alternate Golden Deer ending, in which Byleth got possessed and became the actual final boss. (I haven't been able to find the tweet, but if I do, I will link it here for credit.) Also, all the characters involved were my team during the final battle in my Golden Deer run through. I finished the GD run through and am making my way towards BL, so please keep in mind that I still don't know every little thing about each character yet. 
> 
> Thank you and enjoy!

With a knowing smirk, Claude watched Failnaught’s arrow pierce Nemesis’ arm, giving Byleth the opening she needed to strike him down. The corrupted Sword of the Creator shattered instantly, and Nemesis fell for the final time. He and his army began to fade into dust—the dark magic holding them to this world crumbling with it. Byleth sheathed her Sword of the Creator as Claude slowly stood up to meet her. 

_That strike is definitely going to leave a mark. _Claude chuckled to himself. A bruise and sore muscles were the least of his problems. He was just happy that he and the rest of the Golden Deer somehow managed to survive the whole ordeal relatively in one piece and in good health. He looked back at his army and saw them making their towards him with relieved smiles on their faces. That is, until Hilda pointed towards Byleth with a panicked look on her face. 

Claude whipped around to see Byleth pick up what was left of the Dark Sword of the Creator and get engulfed by a whirlwind of dark magic. Her scream warped into a guttural, beastly sound. The force of the whirlwind knocked Claude backwards into a boulder. His wyvern flew down to shield him, but it was too late. Claude was already losing consciousness from the impact amongst his other injuries. 

“T-Teach….” he murmured. The image of the dark magic slowly consuming Byleth seared into his mind. 

* * *

Byleth was used to war and cutting down her enemies. As the Ashen Demon, or now the Fell Star, she was used to being cold and unrelenting in battle, pushing on with little emotional turmoil, until she became a professor at Garreg Mach. Her students brought a certain warmth into her life that she never experienced before. Sure, Jeralt gave her familial warmth, even though she knew that her aloofness brought him a lot of frustration. Her students, however, relied on her, and she began to rely on them. She memorized each student’s story, their strengths, their weaknesses, and what makes them tick. Because of that, she was able to form efficient military strategies to tackle battles that she would have never been able to do on her own. It was these ties that brought her peace mid-battle. 

Byleth rushed Nemesis, fully trusting Claude’s dramatic speech. Claude was the first of her students to gain her full trust. His schemes have always managed to take the enemy by surprise, and sometimes even Byleth herself. She saw the glow of the descending arrow and adjusted her sword to strike upwards towards the left. This was a drill that the two constantly worked on and perfected. In battle, the stakes were always different, but Claude never failed to miss and Byleth never failed to see the arrow before her opponent did. As Nemesis fell, she couldn’t believe that such a seemingly basic tactic would work. She watched as he began to fade away as did the glow of the Dark Sword of the Creator. The cheers of Alliance forces began to reach her and she smiled to herself. This was truly over. Those who slither in the dark have nothing to defend them now. It was only a matter of time before the remnants of their forces were flushed out and destroyed as well. She could practically hear Sothis’ voice in her head, “FINALLY. Now, I can go back and get some rest.”

Though the Dark Sword of the Creator was nothing but a hilt with a broken blade, Byleth felt the urge to retrieve it. Perhaps the mages could study it to make sure that nothing of the sort came back to haunt them. Maybe the sword was dormant and needed to be sealed. Maybe it was just an empty hunk of bone that could be destroyed and forgotten. Whatever the unease was, it was enough to push Byleth to pick it up, a fatal mistake.

Remnants of the dark magic within snaked its way around her arm. Without so much as a thought, Byleth tried to throw it away, but the dark magic made it impossible. It was attached to her. She gritted her teeth as she felt Sothis’ power repel the dark magic, but she used too many Divine Pulses to know that it wouldn’t last much longer. Byleth threw her Sword of the Creator as far away as possible. While the goddess’ power was enough to keep the corruption contained to her arm, the magic began to sink its way into her body. She screamed as she realized she was losing control of her own body. Her fear let the magic wrestle its way out of her grasp, causing a chaotic whirlwind of energy. When Sothis granted her power, Byleth accepted every ounce of it with open arms. This time, she willed every fiber of her being to reject this energy and screamed with the physical strain of it. As the magic spread from her arm to the rest of her body, she realized it was searching for the Crest of Flames, the source of Sothis’ power. She panicked and dug her left arm into her right until she felt blood. Her vision began to darken even as she looked upwards towards the clear sky—the rest of her body immobilized. Her sea green eyes slowly blackened, revealing red slits for pupils. 

_Am I dying? Is this how it ends for me? Will I see Jeralt again? What about my students? Claude? Cla--?_

* * *

When Claude came to, he heard the war cries of his fellow Golden Deer. His wyvern pulled its wing back to let Marianne near. He looked up at his wyvern and mouthed, “Thank you.” The wyvern blinked at him slowly before giving a quick nuzzle into his chest. 

“Claude, thank the goddess you’re conscious! I’ve been stepping out of the fight periodically to heal you slowly,” Marianne explained before quickly tossing him a Vulnerary and getting started on another round of Physic. Claude immediately felt better physically, but panic was setting in.

“What happened with Teach? Where is she? Why are we still fighting?” He scrambled to get up as soon as he could, but he faltered from the sudden onset of dizziness.

“Careful, Claude. You were just knocked unconscious,” Marianne warned. 

As Claude’s eyes adjusted, they widened in shock and horror. The Golden Deer were fighting Teach. He could tell from the fight that none of them wanted to do this. Hilda was swinging her axe with tears in her eyes. Raphael was blindly swinging his gauntlets. Byleth swung what was left of the Dark Sword of the Creator and cut his arm. Ignatz kept shooting arrows at her feet, forcing her to dance around them. Leonie, and Sylvain were taking turns corralling Byleth with their horses and blocking her attacks, but not countering them. Lysithea’s fireballs only got close enough to singe parts of Byleth’s cloak. Even Felix, with his lust for a good fight, was holding back on his blows and taking a defensive position against Teach. He leaned on his wyvern for support. 

_No. No. NO. Not Teach. This wasn’t part of the plan. _

Claude felt like he was going to throw up. None of his schemes have prepared him for this. He looked at his quiver—two arrows remained somehow. He grabbed his sword and leapt onto his wyvern. 

“Marianne, get back to the others and tend to their wounds. No, lethal shots at Teach, okay? Our goal is to subdue her,” he said.

“Claude,” Marianne responded, mounting her horse. “She hasn’t responded to any of us. We rush at her pleading with her to stop. She hasn’t said a word. She hasn’t acknowledged that she even knows who we are. It’s like she’s not there.” Marianne’s voice faltered, she was on the brink of tears. Claude placed a hand on her horse’s shoulder, looking up at the healer.

“She’ll listen to me,” he said, trying to be reassuring, but he knew he wasn’t so sure that would be the case either. He patted his wyvern on the neck. “Just one more flight, my friend.” With that, his wyvern took off aiming straight for Byleth while Claude nocked an arrow on Failnaught.

* * *

Byleth awoke in the darkness once more. She was hoping to see Sothis, but she knew from the last time that she would never see Sothis again. The throne sat there, empty and dull. It was hard not to be disheartened. She heard muffled grunts and yells echoing in the dark chamber, but she didn’t understand why. She couldn’t sense anyone else in the darkness with her. 

_Pr….ser! ……of….es….sor! ….ut…..it….out….! Ple..! _

Byleth covered her ears as the voices became overwhelming. She was trapped in another void of darkness with no way out. It was the first time since Jeralt’s death she felt truly helpless. She dropped to her knees only to feel a sharp pain in her side as something dug into it. It was the Sword of the Creator, glowing dully. She held it ready to strike an opening again, but something told her it wouldn’t be enough. Byleth knew she needed someone to help her pull her out of this void. In her hands, the Sword of the Creator began to pulse faintly as if calling the other Relics. Byleth closed her eyes and concentrated, starting to listen to the voices again. 

* * *

Hilda was the first to notice the white wyvern dive-bombing towards them. She saw Claude taking aim with Failnaught and retreated. The Golden Deer followed her and encircled Byleth, allowing a big enough radius for Claude and his wyvern to land. Byleth tried to charge Hilda again, but to no avail, since she was ready to block. 

“I’m sorry about this, Professor,” she muttered, before sucker punching Byleth back towards the center of the ring. Claude released his arrow and shot through one of the crest stones in the Dark Sword of the Creator. Byleth recoiled. Using his momentum as he jumped off his wyvern, Claude brought out his sword and disarmed Byleth, freeing her from the corrupted weapon. Sylvain leaped off his galloping horse and used the Lance of Ruin to shatter the other crest stone. Byleth pulled the dagger from her hip and began to charge them both. 

“C’mon Teach, you know brawling isn’t a particular forte of mine,” Claude complained.

“You better have a good plan for this one, lover boy,” Sylvain muttered, ready to strike with his sword. Claude cringed at the nickname. 

“No lethal moves, playboy.”

“As if I could ever hurt the Professor,” Sylvain retorted, turning to face their beloved professor. He felt a chill run up his spine as Byleth’s blackened eyes looked straight through him. The chill quickly turned into surprise as the Professor dodged him, going straight for Claude.

* * *

Byleth heard something shatter. The sound reverberated for a long time and was followed by another sound of shattering. She opened her eyes at the sound and saw a small slit of daylight seeping through. It happened again with the second shattering sound. On instinct, Byleth cut through the space where these slits appeared. She was expecting to tear through realms and enter the real world again, but again, this was different. Instead, it was as if she cut away part of the darkness and could see what was happening outside. She was still trapped in her own body, but she could see Claude and Sylvain squaring up to fight her. Sylvain was in line first.

_**NO.**_

Byleth panicked. She was tired of seeing her students die. She thought of Edelgard and her last words. She thought of Dimitri being slain by a mob of Adrestian soldiers and being unable to lay his body to rest. She thought of Ignatz crying as he shot Petra out of the sky. She remembered Hubert being cut down by Sylvain and the glassy eyed look Sylvain had for days afterwards. She remembered Ingrid ambushing Felix with her battalion of Pegasus knights, and he cut her down on instinct. Sylvain held her body, while Felix stared at the blood on his hands, dropping his sword. Felix didn’t sleep for days afterwards until Byleth had Manuela slip something in his tea. All these students, with beaming hope for their lives, had their lives cut short because of this war. All these students…dead at the hands of her or her own students. She couldn’t save them all, no matter how desperately she tried. 

No matter how many schemes her and Claude came up, they couldn’t save them all. Every few nights, Claude would stop by her room and try to comfort her. Sometimes, they’d sit in silence, staring at the stars. More recently, Claude started letting her physically lean on his shoulder. Sometimes they’d hold hands. It wasn’t long before Byleth noticed she could only rest well if he was there. One morning, she awoke tucked in her bed, and Claude was sleeping on the floor, their fingers intertwined. Byleth remembered that being her first experience with what Claude called “blushing.” With the thought of him, she snapped back to the painful reality that she was about to attack him, and she couldn’t control it. Anger and rage flared up against her. Too many students have died. She entered the war, aiming to finish it. This battle was supposed to finish it. No more deaths, no more war. 

**_ENOUGH. I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS BLOODSHED. _**

Byleth’s anguished thoughts broke through to her body. It was as if every single student’s death was hitting her at once. It was unbearable. She watched as her vision darted away from Sylvain, thoroughly avoiding him, but heading straight towards Claude. Seeing his face brought back more of their memories together—all the nights at the library and the training grounds, all the tea times and the laughter as she struggled to make good conversation, being pulled out onto the dance floor, and that night at the Goddess Tower. Byleth’s fear spiraled. She couldn’t kill Claude. Not Claude of all people—the first person she trusted fully other than Jeralt, the first person she felt she could open up to, the first person whose well-being she cared about more than her own. The first person she came to respect and love. And this dark magic was going to take that away from her. Byleth shouted in frustration and started to slash the void more and more to open up the view of the outside world. No way in hell would she let anything happen to Claude. 

She channeled what was left of Sothis’ power to try and regain control of her body. She could feel her left hand holding the dagger, but she could barely move it. Claude was getting closer and closer. There was no way for her to redirect her aim. 

“DROP IT!” Byleth yelled, bracing for the worst. The concentration it took to visualize her dropping the dagger made her head painfully dizzy.

“Teach?” She heard Claude ask. She opened her eyes and saw that she was staring at Claude. He had her pinned down on the ground with his left knee on her arm and her right wrist by his own hand. Her own dagger was held at her throat. The blood from her self-inflicted wound staining the ground beneath her. She breathed a sigh of relief, allowing tears to well up in her eyes. Claude got her to stop. Her body was still immobile, but the darkness in her mind was starting to open up.

“Professor! Claude!” yelled Hilda. She turned to the sound and saw another white slit appear and then another and then another as her students called out to her. Byleth tirelessly hacked away, destroying most of the darkness. As more daylight seeped in, she felt less trapped and more aware of her physical body. She was still stuck in this strange realm, but she could move most of her body at this point. Her chest felt so heavy as the darkness kept a firm grip on her heart.

_ It feels oddly placed for my heart. _

* * *

Claude was shocked to see Byleth easily evade Sylvain and head straight for him. There was something off about her gait. She wasn’t running with nearly enough drive for it to warrant a kill shot. In fact, her gait was wobbling slightly. All those times in the training ground was enough to tell Claude that Byleth was off her game. She was breaking through somehow. He relaxed his stance only slightly.

_ Come on, Teach. Give me another sign. Please don’t make me hurt you. _

As soon as he finished the thought, Byleth dropped her dagger right before her hand came down to plunge it into his heart. The force of her now-punch resulted in Claude faltering a few steps back, but he used the momentum to grab Byleth and trip her. As they both fell, he pinned her to the ground and reached for the dagger. He wasn’t sure how long Byleth would be able to fight this off before going rogue again. The battalions gathered around maintaining a safe perimeter. 

“Teach?” he asked, hoping for a response. Byleth barely breathed or said a word, but her eyes were shifting from red slits to red pupils within nanoseconds. It was horrifying to see her like this. She physically showed no signs of resistance or even struggle. She just lay there, but Claude couldn’t ease up. He had to wait for her to come back to him. He believed in her as he always had. Byleth disappeared for five years and came back to him. There was no way a stupid dark magic trick would take her away from him like this. 

“Professor! Claude!” yelled Hilda. Claude allowed the rest of his colleagues to approach. He noticed her still-shifting eyes starting to dart to the voices of her students. 

“Please come back to us, Professor,” pleaded Hilda. Marianne and Leonie quickly flanked her. Claude noticed Byleth’s breathing becoming more erratic as foam started to slowly spill from her mouth. Her head started twitching and moving around from side-to-side looking for all her students.

“Everyone back up,” he ordered. Marianne and Hilda were holding each other crying. Raphael was hugging Lysithea and Ignatz towards him. Felix and Sylvain stood with their horses, a blank expression on their faces. Several of his peers were shedding tears, but Claude couldn’t show his. He needed to remain strong because he was the only one who could scheme his way out of this. He hated having to share anything between them with the other students, but if that’s what pulled her out, he would. Claude brought his face close to hers, whispering the nickname that was only spoken when it was the two of them alone.

“By, please come back to me.” He stared into her red eyes, which focused on only him now. He realized the erratic breathing was not actually breathing, but Byleth was silently crying. Tears were welling up in her eyes that refused to break his gaze. He pulled away slightly, kissing her forehead.

“By, you know I hate it when you cry,” he teased. Something shifted in that moment and Byleth kicked Claude off her and scrambled to her feet. She was surrounded by her students and their battalions, completely unarmed. Claude nocked an arrow, trying to maintain the external pressure that would force Byleth to break out of her own head. The other students followed suit. Marianne and Lysithea readied long range healing magic. Byleth was gripping her own arm, the arm that first picked up the Dark Sword of the Creator, so tightly that she created fresh wounds. 

_ So that’s what the blood was earlier. _

Her eyes now stayed as red pupils instead of slits. She was swaying slightly as if trying to hold herself back from moving. She groaned. 

“P-Ple….ase….C-Claude…” she managed to stutter out. Claude looked on worriedly.

“What is it, Teach?” He didn’t want to comprehend what she was asking. Her eyes kept darting to her shoulder. _Her shoulder? _Claude stifled a sob. He hated being as smart as he was. He aimed Failnaught directly at Byleth, steeling his own heart. 

“CLAUDE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” yelled the Golden Deer students. The battalions gasped and shuffled in their place. Leonie jumped off her steed ready to tackle him into the ground. She promised to take care of Jeralt’s child, not watch her die in front of her. Sylvain and Felix held her back. Hilda looked away. Raphael had a firm hand on Ignatz’s shoulder to stop him from shaking so much. 

“YOU CAN’T DO THIS, CLAUDE!”

Lysithea silently raised another hand of magic towards Claude. One hand had Physic ready for Byleth and the other had Hades ready for Claude, but then again, Lysithea was also much smarter than that.

“If you miscalculate this….” Lysithea trailed off.

Claude looked at Byleth for the last time. He saw her starting to convulse as she started losing control, a short-range target—a target he could hit with his eyes closed. He was grateful for that as a few tears slipped down his cheeks. 

“I love you. With everything I am,” he whispered, releasing his final arrow straight into Byleth’s heart.


	2. Free-Falling and Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The arrow pierced through the Crest of Flames and Byleth’s heart." 
> 
> The aftermath of Claude's decision is...let's just say...not pretty and neither is the journey back to Garreg Mach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving! Thank you for your patience! End of semester is always crazy, but I should have the last chunk of this (ideally) done by the second week of December!
> 
> (Also, finally named Claude's wyvern!)

The arrow pierced through the Crest of Flames and Byleth’s heart. Despite the agony it caused, Byleth breathed a sigh of relief, letting the tears flow freely with a hint of a smile on her lips. All her strength faded away, and she collapsed on the ground. As blood pooled around her body, Byleth’s eyes glazed over, finally back to their sea foam color. The last thing she heard was the chaotic screaming of her students. 

* * *

Claude wasn’t able to make it to Byleth’s side before she hit the ground. Leonie broke free from Sylvain and Felix who were in shock and began to run toward Claude. Lysithea hurtled Hades at Claude who barely managed to throw himself out of its path. Even Ignatz started raising his bow at him before Raphael yanked his arm down. Hilda and Marianne ran to intercept Leonie and Lysithea before they started their next attack. It was complete and utter chaos. The battalions had no idea what to do and looked at each other. 

_ Fuck. FUCK. _

“All units, stand DOWN!” he yelled before more in-fighting created another war, a civil war. His fellow Golden Deer paused in their attacks, watching the Alliance leader crumble in front of their eyes. Claude knew his fellow Golden Deer would be mad. He knew it would be him against the world as it always was, but his heart felt heavier than it ever could. In one fell swoop, Claude lost his best friend and his allies. He pushed himself off the ground and ran to Byleth, falling to his knees. Cradling her body, he pressed an ear to her chest, hoping to hear something over his uncontrollable sobs. There would be no heartbeat, he knew, but he still searched for a sign of breathing. Her shallow breaths seemed to get quieter as the seconds passed. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, praying to the stars they watched together for any sliver of hope. His wyvern flew down and encircled the two of them with its body, resting its head under Claude’s elbow. The rest of the students rushed over. Leonie, whose rage at Claude now turned to grief, fell to her knees and held Byleth’s limp hand. The rest of the Golden Deer knelt on the ground around Byleth, all of them too grief-stricken to really say much. Raphael comforted Ignatz while losing his own fight with his tears. Hilda sniffled and put a hand on Claude’s shoulder. He looked up to see Marianne and Lysithea run over with grave looks on their faces, healing magic at the ready. He shivered at Lysithea’s glare.

“You better have made the right choice,” Hilda said. Claude didn’t respond. He was too focused on holding her to his chest as if he was trying to share his warmth and heartbeat with Byleth in the hopes that she’d come back. Her blood stained his Almyran armor and the scales of his wyvern. He didn’t think it would be possible to lose her again so soon after she returned from a 5-year coma. Just how cruel could the universe be to return Byleth to him only to have him lose her in his arms?

“Claude, we need to pull the arrow out if we are to heal her or at the very least stabilize her,” said Lysithea, her eyes stone cold almost like the Professor’s. Marianne nodded quietly, her hands shaking. Claude looked up, his usual teasing smirk was replaced with the face of a man distraught to his very core. 

“Please let us try,” Marianne pleaded. Claude laid Byleth on her back and gripped the arrow protruding from her chest, an arrow that was no longer glowing. Raphael stepped forward. 

“Claude, I can do it,” he offered with a grimace on his face. Claude shook his head. 

“No, I did this. I made this choice, and it is my burden to bear.” Raphael silently stood for a few moments more before giving the Alliance noble space. He gripped the arrow tightly and took a few deep breaths. With a look of pure agony, he yanked the arrow out of Byleth’s chest. Fresh blood stained Claude’s face and already soiled armor. The sudden jerk shook her body, but she still didn’t stir. Claude hoped that there would be some reaction out of her to prove that she was trying to break free of the comatose state she was in. The rest of the Golden Deer were hoping for the same, but their professor lay there limp still. He threw the arrow several feet away and pulled off his gloves, running his hands through his own hair in frustration. Marianne and Lysithea immediately knelt and got to work, using various combinations of white magic to heal Byleth’s wounds.

“Claude.” He turned around.

“How bad is it?” he asked. Marianne looked up at him with a glazed look in her eyes. 

“Her Crest shattered, and the shards are making it difficult to close the wounds. She’ll need surgery to remove them as soon as she arrives at the monastery. We can only stabilize her so much.”

Claude let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in. A hiccup escaped his lips. He didn’t remember the last time he cried like this let alone in front of people. 

_ Get a grip, Claude. Get a grip. Teach needs you….if she’s not dead yet. _

The last thought made more tears slip free.

“Please stabilize her enough that she can ride with me back to the monastery. I will gather the battalions and send them back.” He turned to look at the battalions. “Someone please send for Manuela and have a battalion escort her back to Garreg Mach, immediately. Stay in battle formation, keep your flares on you, and prioritize the protection of the healers. I do not trust that those who slither in the dark are all gone yet.” The soldiers acknowledged him and began their preparations for the journey home. 

Hilda made her way over to her wyvern. “I can catch Manuela faster from the air. She can ride with me back to the monastery. Nader can be our escort.” With that, she took off. 

Judith arrived and saw one look at Claude’s face before rallying the battalions in formation to march home. Claude could only nod with gratitude. Felix and Sylvain joined the ranks of those marching home, making their way to the front guard. Raphael and Ignatz made their way to the left guard. Leonie refused to leave without Lysithea or Marianne, thus deciding to take the rear guard once Byleth was stabilized. 

It was an agonizing process to close the wounds, especially the fatal one. Byleth’s chest refused to close just as Marianne said. Sweat began to bead on her forehead. Lysithea checked more minor wounds, such as the self-inflicted wound on her arm. Those healed quickly. Lysithea also wordlessly checked Byleth for any remaining signs of dark magic. As far as she could tell, the Professor was clear, but she was still stuck in her own mind. Her breathing was shallow, but there, nonetheless.

Minutes felt like an eternity as Claude directed healers to help with the wounded and move towards the center of the formation, all the while standing watch over Byleth. He finally received clearance by Lysithea and Marianna to personally transport Byleth back to the monastery. His wyvern never left her side throughout all this time and stood up to get ready for flight when Claude came to lift her in his arms. Her body was still limp, but it wasn’t cold. He hopelessly pressed an ear to her chest again. He remembered the first time he went with Byleth to tend to their injuries, only to find out that she didn’t have a heartbeat and that this was surprisingly normal for her. He looked at the two mages with heartfelt gratitude. 

“Thank you,” he said, reaching for his cloak. He swaddled Byleth in it, wrapping her arms to her sides so they wouldn’t dangle mid-flight. He carried her wrapped body and climbed on his wyvern’s back. The wyvern was anxious and outstretched its wings, reflecting its rider’s emotions. “Take it easy, my friend. You know I can’t hold her and your reins for that long.” Claude grabbed another cloak from the saddlebag and wrapped Byleth to him as if she were a young child. With one arm, he hugged her to him and pressed her face into his shoulder. He felt her legs dangling against his wyvern’s sides. That would be the best it got, considering the circumstances. 

Leonie got Lysithea and Marianne back in formation. They nodded at him as Claude pressed his legs on the wyvern’s sides. The wyvern roared and shot up in the sky. The other Falcon knights followed suit. He pressed a hand to his companion’s neck. 

“Stay within the clouds above the Falcon knights,” he said. If anything were to happen, the other knights would act as a buffer between them and the enemies. Claude flattened him and Byleth against his wyvern as they surged forward, catching an air current now that they were aerodynamic. He sighed as droplets clung to his skin.

_ I’ve always wanted to take you flying, but not like this. _

Byleth still didn’t stir as the air grew colder. Claude sat up slightly on edge. He began to hear shouting below him. A red flare broke through the clouds. 

_ Fuck. _He urged his wyvern to go higher. The wyvern snorted and remained at its current altitude. 

“Muta, we are not in a condition to battle right now.” He felt a tingle on the back of his neck a fraction of a second before they suddenly dive-bombed. Normally, this would’ve given Claude an indescribable thrill, but he didn’t feel that in the slightest as he was trying to prevent Byleth from slipping out of his cloak. A crack of lightning was heard overhead. Claude let out a stream of curses. He descended from the clouds into more chaos. Archers were aiming upwards forcing the flying battalions higher towards the lightning. Pegasi and wyverns were frantically avoiding both, but they didn’t see Muta or Claude pop through the clouds. Claude remembered what Nader said when he was first started wyvern training.

_ Wyverns are smarter than pegasi. They know the skies better than you. Let them show you. _

Claude flattened against his wyvern, hugging Byleth to him. 

“I trust you.” With those words, Muta flew through the chaos, expertly avoiding the pegasi and snapping at other wyverns that came close. Claude saw the ballista that was aiming upwards. He aimed his flare down at the ballista and shot it, hoping the smoke from the flare would at least disorient them enough for the other flyers to take notice and move to safety. It worked for a short while, and Claude was able to retreat to the safety of the clouds again, but not before yelling at the battalions to get back in formation. The storm wasn’t subsiding, so their best chance was to outrun the storm and land in Garreg Mach.

_ Which is probably what they were expecting. _

Claude turned back to tell the battalions to prepare for an ambush when he got knocked off Muta by another wyvern. Its claws scored his back and Claude groaned in agony. He felt fresh blood, his blood, soak through his clothes. The cloak wrapping Byleth to him loosened with every second. 

Too late.

* * *

“How long do you intend to stay in this darkness?” a voice asked. “Your mind, body, and soul are free now, all thanks to me.” Byleth chuckled at the presence of the condescending tone—a presence she was comforted by. 

_ Thank you, Sothis. _

A high-pitched laugh echoed, but Sothis was nowhere to be found. Byleth was still grateful to have her back in her head, at least for a few moments. 

“Never one to spare many words as usual. I accept your gratitude, but don’t be a fool. The people of Fódlan still weep. Your friends weep. Your lover weeps. The battle is not over, not yet. Since you and I are one and the same, you should also know this truth in your heart.”

_ My lover? _

Byleth didn’t recall such an occurrence in her life. Sothis grew more frustrated by the minute.

“I’m still a part of you. As endearingly dense as you may be, you need to do something about that, especially since you’re **free-falling **at the moment…”

_ Alright, alright. I hate free-falling. _

Sothis’ laughter faded away as she complained about her next nap. 

When Byleth came to, she was indeed free-falling and completely immobilized, staring straight into Muta’s yellow eyes. Instinctively, she drew on Sothis’ power to turn back time, but all she could do was struggle helplessly and slow down their time by just enough seconds to allow the wyvern to catch them both.

* * *

Claude’s training included learning how to slow his fall should he fall off. His training didn’t include how to do that with dead weight firmly attached to him. The ground was rushing at them at a dangerous speed. The tactician’s mind couldn’t even spare a moment to figure out if the wyvern that knocked them off was friend or foe. Claude kept trying to right himself in the air and be horizontal to the ground to slow down his speed, but Byleth’s dead weight kept pulling his left side down. Every updraft knocking him off balance made him wince from the wound on his back. He could hear Muta trying to catch up with them. 

_ By the stars or the Goddess, please give us strength. _

Claude silently kicked himself for suddenly becoming a religious man in the face of death. He suddenly felt warm in his chest and looked down at Byleth. The cloak kept becoming more undone and he was desperately gripping her to him. 

_ Was her hair catching the light differently or…?_

She suddenly peeked out of the cloak and stared up at the sky with glowing green eyes devoid of every emotion except determination.

“Teeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaach?!” he tried to say, but his voice slowed to an uncharacteristically slow drawl. 

_ What the-?_

Muta shot past them and unfurled his wings, using the sudden updraft to meet them. Claude righted himself finally and roughly landed back on his saddle. 

“CLAUDE!” yelled Hilda, who dove through the clouds at them. Claude looked down at the ground and saw Sylvain and Leonie leading the charge against the archers. “The infantry will take care of the archers. The Falcon knights have already formed a scouting squad to look ahead. No enemies have been sighted as of yet except for the archers below. Manuela started riding with Nader, so I could pass the message along to you. How is the Professor?”

Unsure of what to make of the past few minutes, Claude said, “She’s fine, still breathing, still warm.” Hilda looked at him, worriedly. 

“Just get her back quickly. I’ll warn Manuela about your new injury.” Claude didn’t need to be told again. He pressed a hand to Muta and again they sped through the clouds. 

“Teach, you definitely did something back there. I don’t know what, but I expect an explanation once you’re better.”

Byleth made a disgruntled noise. Claude looked down in surprise. Her eyes were shut again, but she seemed to be sleeping rather than being in a comatose state. “Cl….” she trailed off, but not before becoming still again. Claude pressed her face into the crook of his neck, grateful to feel her stable breathing. 

_Just don’t sleep for another 5 years. Sheesh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! It really means a lot that you've made it this far! I've really enjoyed writing this and I think I will only have one part left after this. (At least, that's my current timeline!)


	3. Shards of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Claude drank his last concoction right as they passed over the gates of the monastery. His vision was getting blurred—he’d lost too much blood. His back was so sore he couldn’t hold himself up anymore...."
> 
> The battalions finally arrive at Garreg Mach only for the post-battle mayhem to arise. Manuela and the healers are working overtime tonight to save Byleth and Claude.

Hilda joined the falcon knights in scouting for a potential ambush, but found none, luckily. She wasn’t too pleased with the extra round of scouting, but couldn’t find it in her heart to blame Claude at all. Everyone was tired, hungry, and weary. She landed with her wyvern at the gate.

“Greetings, Hilda! Nothing to report!” said the Gatekeeper. 

“That’s a relief. Where’s Seteth?” she asked.

“I have just sent for Seteth. He should be arriving shortly.”

“I am already here,” announced the older man, who also descended from his wyvern. “Make sure that the troops are well-rested. Those who are in good health will take the first guard shift. Send for the cooks and healers. They will need to start preparations for the rest of the troops that are on their way here. No one is allowed in the monastery unless they are soldiers, understood?”

“Yes, sir!” said the Gatekeeper, who passed the message along to his fellow guards.

“Hilda, I will make sure your wyvern is well-tended to. Before you check in with the healers, I must ask this. We won, I presume, but at what cost?” A grim expression came over Seteth’s already pale face. Hilda sighed, hoping for a little more time before this conversation.

“Claude and Byleth are gravely injured. They should be arriving shortly on Claude’s wyvern. I would like to wait until Manuela arrives before explaining the entire situation. It is not pretty.” Hilda hoped Seteth wouldn’t press further, though she was suspicious as to how he was aware of the grim situation. Thankfully, Manuela and Nader’s arrival held him off.

“Duke Riegan will be arriving shortly,” Nader said, helping Manuela off his wyvern. The strange title felt odd to say aloud. Manuela looked exhausted, but her eyes steeled themselves for the words she had to say.

“Both Claude and Byleth will need my immediate attention. I reckon their surgeries will require several hours, and I will not have much strength left. All healing battalions and squadrons will be divided based on rank and will tend to injuries that reflect their rank. All the injured will be divided based on severity of injuries as well. I leave Marianne, Lysithea, and Leonie to lead.” Manuela turned to Seteth. “Flayn is to be summoned to the infirmary immediately. Claude and Byleth need to be separated from the rest of the injured.” Seteth’s face blanched.

“She’s not feeling well,” he said, quietly. Manuela’s expression hardened, a mixture of anger and fear.

“If she wants Byleth **alive**, she will be at the infirmary.” Without a word, Manuela took a few guards with her to prepare for two surgeries. 

“If you do not have immediate need of me, I will make sure the Almyran troops and healers cooperate with yours for a jointed effort,” Nader said, solemnly. “It is what Cl- Duke Riegan would want.” Seteth nodded, grateful for the assistance. The tense atmosphere made Hilda want to jump on her wyvern and fly away, which is exactly what she did. 

“I will direct the flying battalions to the stables and make sure everyone is being tended to. As soon as the Golden Deer arrive, I will relay the information.” With a flap of her wyvern’s wings, Hilda was back in the sky.

Seteth’s breaths became uneven. The older man was not used to feeling this kind of physical weakness. He knew that he had to maintain a front to prevent the others from worrying, but also to hide his true identity as Saint Cichol. Gingerly climbing on his wyvern, he went to go grab his daughter, Flayn, from her quarters. A loud roar forced his gaze upward, and he saw the moonlit wyvern race overhead with two bodies wrapped in a gold cloak on its back. 

_Where are they heading? _

The realization was not fast enough. Seteth took off after them in a panic. 

“NOT THE ARCHBISHOP’S QUARTERS!” He yelled, but his voice was lost to the wind.

* * *

Claude drank his last concoction right as they passed over the gates of the monastery. His vision was getting blurred—he’d lost too much blood. His back was so sore he couldn’t hold himself up anymore and was completely laying on top of his wyvern with Byleth pinned between. She seemed stable, but he could barely tell anymore with his own racing heartbeat filling his ears. He heard a familiar voice calling out to him, but he wasn’t even sure if it was a hallucination or not. Claude’s sole goal was to make it back and hand Byleth over. 

_No surgery. No surgery. No surge-_

“Muta, where are you taking us?” he mumbled. The wyvern roared back at him in response before landing on the balcony of a tower, the archbishop’s tower. “This isn’t the infirmary, buddy…” Muta slowly leaned to one side, causing Claude and Byleth to tumble off its back onto a heap. The wyvern used his head to prop them both up in a sitting position, with Claude holding Byleth in his arms. He took a protective stance around the injured couple. 

Seteth burst in. “WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YO-?!” His outburst was cut short after taking in the injuries covering them both and the wyvern baring its fangs at him. One look was all it took to realize that the two would not be able to move further. He noticed the bloodstained armor, the blood on the wyvern, and the blood still pooling on the floor. “Guards! Send for Manuela. She must do the surgeries here. Go now!” He knelt in front of the two, noticing Claude’s ragged breaths.

“No…don’t….take her…..Crest….” Claude said in between pained gasps. “She’ll…die…if you…remove…her Crest.” 

_How on Earth did Claude know that much about Byleth’s Crest?_

“Claude, hand her over. You both need surgery. Manuela is coming, shortly. Let’s get you both on cots.” He reached for Byleth. With what little strength he had, Claude pulled Byleth in closer to him, tears in his eyes. 

“No…surgery…promise…me… She needs….her….Crest.” 

“Stupid boy. I am aware of Byleth’s situation,” Manuela’s voice cut through the room. She rushed over. “Claude, CLAUDE. Look at me. I am fully aware of the Professor’s ailment and lack of heartbeat, which is why I have Flayn. Hilda debriefed me fully about your fatal shot. Jeralt and Rhea both prepared me for such a scenario prior to their passing. Now, hand her over, or you both die from your wounds.” It was now Seteth’s turn to gasp quietly as he saw Flayn standing by one of the cots. She waved sheepishly, before pulling up her long, green hair and opening an ancient healing tome.

“Rhea’s gone?” asked Claude. Not that he particularly cared about the former archbishop, but it seemed rather odd.

“Yes, she passed suddenly this morning,” replied Seteth. Claude looked as if in a daze. Despite his head injury, he seemed to be able to process such information. 

“I shot Teach….this morning.” The words were murmured, but the impact of those words reverberated throughout the room. It all started to make sense in Claude’s mind, now made more apparent with the former archbishop’s quarters being mostly stripped of her belongings. The connection between Rhea and Teach was far deeper than he ever surmised. He knew his last shot had something to do with Rhea’s death.

Seteth’s mind was a few seconds slower than Claude’s, but everything fell into place—Rhea’s sudden death, Flayn’s ailment, the pain in his chest. The Crest of Flames was broken. Their bond with their mother, Sothis, was cut. Rhea, being the closest of the three to Sothis and already weak from her time in captivity, died from heartbreak earlier that day. Flayn’s symptoms resembled that of the flu, but considering she was closer to her own biological mother than Sothis, she was probably the most stable of the three. 

_All because this punk didn’t protect the Professor. _

Seteth didn’t realize how much he was relying on Claude to bring the Professor back safe and sound and felt ashamed for not being able to do the job himself. Rage flared in him. Claude couldn’t protect the Professor and killed Rhea as a by-product. He turned ready to berate Claude further until Hilda grabbed his shoulder. 

“Please step outside. You’re angry. I- we- all of us, the Golden Deer, were furious, too, but let me explain what happened.” Seteth was undoubtedly confused and had no choice, but to follow Hilda whose steel grip on his shoulder was unrelenting until they reached the hallway. Sylvain and Felix were waiting outside with the same grave looks on their faces.

Claude watched Hilda take Seteth away and a part of him was grateful, though a part of him knew he deserved every word of regret and disgust from the older man. He made a choice, and if Byleth didn’t live, he would have to suffer the consequences of his actions the rest of his life. He gambled his dreams on the hope that Byleth would pull through and there were no clear signs of that yet. Nader knelt in front of him.

“Claude, please give me the Professor,” he pleaded. Claude didn’t notice he was clutching her so close to him. If she were conscious, she’d probably complain about being suffocated. He chuckled at a faint memory of the first night they woke up in each other’s arms. That was the first thing out of her mouth. 

“Promise me she doesn’t get rid of the Crest,” Claude pleaded back. Nader gave a small bow and nodded, a silent Almyran promise. He sighed when Nader cut away the remnants of the swaddling cloak and carried Byleth away. It was only then that he finally succumbed to his injuries and let the strength in his body slip away.

* * *

After Nader carried Byleth to the operating cot, he did the same to Claude, placing the Duke on his side. Muta paced in the little space he had on the balcony. Nader threw Muta some provisions until he calmed down and made himself comfortable to guard Claude. If the situation weren’t so dire, he would’ve chuckled to himself about how loyal the wyvern was to his master and his companion. It was rare for a wyvern to show such loyalty on its own volition, but alas, that was the result of Claude demanding he hand-raise the wyvern since his hatching. He was tired from the battle and exhausted, but he knew he had to report these events to the King and Queen shortly. Claude already knew he had to return to Almyra to claim the throne shortly after this final battle, but with his condition, as well as Byleth’s, there’s no telling when the crown prince will return to his homeland.

“I will step out, but remain in the halls on guard,” he declared. Manuela nodded as she began administering anesthetics to both patients. Nader didn’t want to stick around to watch the surgeries anyway.

* * *

“Flayn, you must be well aware of your position right now,” explained Manuela. Flayn nodded. This was only the second time she had to do a healing spell of this caliber. She had several Elixirs on the ready to keep her afloat until the procedure was done. 

“Heal the Crest and only the Crest,” she repeated before glancing over the ancient healing spell. Manuela removed Byleth’s chest plate and removed her tunic and undergarments, revealing several scars and a newly forming scar. She turned to Marianne who came to assist.

“You did well, Marianne. I know it was very difficult for you to close such a gaping wound with all the shrapnel. The Professor will be fine. Please tend to Claude’s wounds. It’s a wonder he was able to move with all his blood loss.” Marianne silently moved to the adjacent cot and cut away Claude’s tunic to begin using her white magic. “He will need stitches afterwards.”

Now that the operating teams were well on there way, Manuela took a scalpel and cut open Byleth’s wound. Sure enough, the Crest shards began to poke their way through. Flayn winced at the sight as Manuela opened up Byleth’s chest cavity to see the full extent of the damage. 

“Now is the time, my dear. You must heal the Crest and make it whole once more or so help us both Jeralt and Rhea will claw their way back from the dead.” Flayn blinked away tears and began to recite the spell from the ancient tome. Her words faltered at the start, but grew in confidence as the spell began to take hold. The Crest of Flames glowed an eerie deep purple and lightened to red as the shards began piecing themselves back together. Manuela sighed in relief and began using extensive white magic to heal Byleth’s other injuries, including the claw marks on her arm. It would take hours to heal the Crest and the surrounding tissue. 

* * *

Byleth swam in and out of consciousness, but she remembered being surrounded by the smell of blood and the warmth of pine needles. It was only when she was ripped away from the warmth did she realize that she yearned for it always.

When she opened her eyes, she knew she was dreaming. She was her younger self, probably 7 years old, and watched her father sparring with some of the local villagers. Byleth smiled to herself. These were more peaceful times. Her eyes never once strayed from her father’s techniques. He taught the villagers all about the sword first, then the lance, then the axe, and then the bow. Jeralt always apologized for having to move around so much, but Byleth didn’t mind usually. She enjoyed watching her father help others. It was around this time that Byleth started seriously training because she wanted to help her father with his missions. 

The dream fast-forwarded to her first sparring session. Jeralt blocked every single move and with one quick flick of his wrist, Byleth was disarmed. She got frustrated and started losing her focus. 

“Remember, Byleth. Parry and riposte. Parry the incoming attack and riposte as soon as you’re able. Ready? PARRY FIVE!” Jeralt commanded, swinging his sparring sword straight down at Byleth’s head. She blocked it and countered with a riposte that landed on her father’s right side. “Good! Again! Aim for a different part of my body with every riposte!” They continued on like that for another hour. By the end, Byleth was panting and her arms were sore from parrying Jeralt’s swings. 

Byleth tried to break through in her dream—if only she could go back in time to give him a hug and to truly thank him for everything he’d done for her. Everyone called her Jeralt’s daughter, but she never addressed him as Father. In fact, she hardly addressed him at all by any name. As she got older, she started copying fellow mercenaries and called him “Jeralt.” There was a pain in Byleth’s chest, a pain that she relived every time she remembered her father’s death and how it was fated, how she tried so many times to go back and fix it, but it would just never be. Her father would always lay down his life for her, no matter what. 

_Why did it take so long for me to understand my emotions? Why did he have to die for me for me to realize what they mean?_

“Little one, why are you crying?” her father asked. Byleth was a 7 year old again, just finished with her first bout of sparring. She knew what she always wanted to say, what she wanted to call him, though it would barely scrape the surface of the depth of her emotions. She looked up at him, wiping away the tears with the back of her hands, grateful for this moment.

“I’m happy, Papa. Thank you for everything you’ve taught me.” Her arms reached upwards, and Jeralt, despite his shock, picked her up. He held her close as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Thank **you**, kiddo. You’re doing great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this next chapter! This fic just keeps getting longer and longer the more I let ideas simmer in my brain..oops...(haha not really, I'm enjoying this.) I'm on winter break now, so my goal is to have the next chapter out next week! Probably going to start a bunch of one-shots too based off of moments I wish I could elaborate more on from this fic. 
> 
> (Also, yes, the parry-riposte with Jeralt is straight from my own fencing sparring session with my captain.)


	4. Death. Time. The Divine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "One of the perks of experimenting with poisons is that Claude’s body was eager to fight off any foreign substance in his body, including anesthetics."
> 
> As Claude's anesthetics wear off, he has a string of nightmares, which may be caused by Divine Intervention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: this is probably the most graphic/painful chapter in terms of character deaths and violence/gore. I am considering upping the rating of this fic because of this chapter. It was incredibly difficult and emotionally taxing to write, but alas, it had to be done. 
> 
> Please be warned, but it should be easier waters to navigate after this chapter.

One of the perks of experimenting with poisons is that Claude’s body was eager to fight off any foreign substance in his body, including anesthetics. The crown prince could tell he was coming to the surface sooner than expected. He could feel the pin pricks on his back from whatever they were doing to sew his wounds back together. He could feel the damaged sinew and tissue around his spine being cut away and then put together with white magic. The ache in his muscles slowly beginning to return as each neuron began to recalibrate its senses. The voices he heard were muffled as if he were underwater—slowly drawn out and soft. He missed Byleth’s voice. It always softened when it was just the two of them even if it was just discussing battle strategies. He knew her façade began to slip away in his presence even if she wasn’t consciously aware of it. 

Claude felt bubbles lifting him upwards towards the surface. It wasn’t his first surgery. He knew if he forced himself out of this state, his body would go haywire and leave him immobile for a few days. The voices were getting louder, becoming more clear. He reached a hand out mentally towards the surface, feeling the heat of the sun’s rays warm his body. Claude relaxed and was ready to awaken, but a strong current pulled him under once more.

_Another wave of anesthetic. _

An ethereal voice, a woman’s voice, began to call to him. Claude looked for the source of the voice, but could find none. It felt so far away, but also right next to him. It was as if the voice was encapsulating his mind, body, and soul. He expected it to feel like a threat, like an invasion of the mind. Instead, it felt like immediate comfort. Claude could rarely trust anything or anyone who made him feel like that from the start, except for one instance. 

_Teach?_

He called out in his mind. He realized now that the voice was merely repeating the same sentence incessantly. The rhythm of the phrase never faltered, but Claude couldn’t make out individual words yet. 

_What are you trying to tell me, Teach?_

A rush of coldness consumed him. He was a student, 5 years younger, ripped away from the bandit who was holding his head underwater. Byleth grabbed Claude by his shirt and threw him towards the riverbank to safety, drawing a steel sword in the next breath. Her eyes, burning like the flames from the razed village, paralyzed the bandit with pure fear. He lasted not one moment later before he was cleaved in two. 

Claude spat out muddy water and got up slowly. He pressed a hand to his side to staunch the bleeding wound, brushing it off as minor cut he could disinfect himself. There were more seriously wounded students and soldiers for the healers to concern themselves with after all. Byleth spared him a wary glance, but he reassured the Professor he was fine. She threw him her last vulnerary and ran back into the burning village to save more civilians. Claude didn’t see any more combat of that battle, but was told Byleth saved every civilian she saw, which was…all of them. He chuckled, expecting nothing less. In the heat of the mission’s success, Claude forgot one too many of his disinfectant potions. The next morning, he collapsed from sepsis and died by sundown. 

_One._

The Imperial troops descended on Garreg Mach. Byleth was busy corralling the students to safety and sending those fit for battle into the fray. She watched her Golden Deer join forces with the Blue Lions and create a tight formation, effectively holding off the oncoming battalions. She smiled for just a moment, wishing the students could’ve all worked together like this much earlier. Most of the students were well on their way to safety when she saw the Demonic Beasts heading towards the Immaculate One. Drawing the Sword of the Creator from its sheath, she started running to the oncoming fray. A bloodcurdling yell stopped her in her tracks. Dimitri was taking a defensive position, shielding Claude as he writhed in agony. Without hesitation, Byleth changed course and unleashed her fury on the opposing battalion. The Sword of the Creator stretched and wove its way around her students and through the bodies of countless soldiers. They all fell to their knees. Dimitri and the Blue Lions quickly dispatched those who survived. The Golden Deer formed a ring around their leader.

“Te-Teach…where are you….” Claude scrambled to his feet, and Byleth stifled a cry. Half his face was burned, from Bolganone no doubt, but his eyes were completely singed. Marianne and Dorothea prepared Physic to stabilize him, but Claude began wildly swinging his lance around. “WHERE IS EVERYONE?!” Byleth stepped forward, and the students started loosening the circle. Her first thought was of a maimed animal that needed to be put out of its misery, and she hated herself for it. She sheathed her sword, but Claude didn’t hear it as such. He whirled around at the noise and stabbed her with his lance. She coughed up blood, gripping the lance to immobilize Claude. Students, both Blue Lions and Golden Deer alike, yelled at him to stop. 

“I’M FINE!” Byleth’s voice boomed over the chaos. “Go annihilate those Demonic Beasts. Ignore the dragon. NOW GO!” she yelled before her students could protest further. Claude froze.

“Teach?” he asked quietly while letting go of the lance. This would be the fourth and final time she’d be able to rewind time during this battle. Her stamina was beginning to fade. She tried so desperately to avoid falling off the cliff, but the cost would’ve been Rhea’s death or her students’. Byleth resigned herself to her fate and tore out the lance. She only had a few moments as she prepared the final Divine Pulse. Instinctively, she reached out towards Claude and hugged him to her, placing one hand behind his head. Her fingers slowly drew circles in his hair in reassurance. His voice could barely surface now due to the severity of the burns, but his arms held on to her tightly. That was all Byleth needed to know how he felt. Her hands started to glow, magic at the ready.

“I’ll see you in 5 years, as promised.” Turning back the clock, he vanished from her arms, no longer injured. 

_Two. _

Claude could hardly contain his excitement at Byleth’s return. It was all he could do to keep himself composed and not run to her. The moment was short-lived as they found themselves surrounded by bandits in the outskirt ruins of Garreg Mach. Claude dismounted from his wyvern to better protect Teach. It seemed like she was doing fine, considering she was supposedly asleep for 5 years, but there was something sluggish about her movements that worried him. On the ground, he had her back, firing volley after volley of arrows. He was beginning to run low and scrambled for any arrows on the ground or in corpses. Yanking them out, he continued to fire. Byleth noticed he was running low and began dodging the arrows heading her way instead of cutting them down. She didn’t notice the leader of the bandits climbing on a stone pillar behind on her right side ready to pounce. Claude nocked his arrow carefully following the trajectory of the filthy man, but his bow snapped in his hands. The sound echoed off the stone ruins, startling everyone. Byleth turned to notice the bandit leader launching himself at her, but only because Claude jumped in the way first, taking a sword through the chest. Byleth screamed as blood leaked from Claude’s mouth, his screams and groans of pain turning into gurgled chokes. In a rage, his wyvern descended, crushing men beneath his feet and biting off the heads of those who came too close to the two. Fate was the cruelest god of them all.

_Three._

Byleth tensed up at the sight of resurrected wyvern riders. The only two airborne fighters were currently Claude and Hilda, both on wyverns. It didn’t matter if she wasn’t as good as on a wyvern, but she needed to be up there fast. She whistled for her wyvern and switched to the Sword of the Creator. 

“Igs! Felix! Bows up NOW!” she yelled. Both men turned and rushed to her side, aiming upwards. Raphael and Leonie immediately readjusted their formation to guard the two archers, and the others followed suit. “Let Claude and Hilda come this way to draw them in and then pick them off with long range attacks.”

She grinned as she flew up to meet them. Hilda was doing her best to taunt them, while Claude was in his saddle backwards picking them off with his bow. With a deep breath, she tapped into the power of her Crest and unleashed the Sword of the Creator in a chain-link whip. The first row of wyvern riders fell to their deaths as the first wave of arrows and magic reached the second row of riders. It was a chaotic mess in the air. Byleth expertly intercepted any riders that got too close to her infantry below. As she dove, she noticed another ambush bursting through the trees and yelled to warn the Golden Deer. Lysithea, Marianne, and Sylvain turned to face them. A shadow loomed over their faces. Byleth turned upwards to pure horror. Another wave of wyvern riders ambushed them from behind—a pincer attack.

Claude fended off as many as he could, but two wyverns sank their claws into Muta’s sides. Their jaws sank into him—shattering his bow and limbs, ripping his arms from their sockets. Synchronized screams from beast and rider unleashed a rage Byleth hadn’t felt since Jeralt’s death. Tapping into her full strength and foregoing her Ashen Demon demeanor, she released both the Sword of the Creator and Ragnarok at once. Incinerated riders and dismembered wyverns rained down on the infantry below, but she didn’t care. She caught Claude’s broken body in her arms, his blood staining her face. An excruciating wail ripped its way out of her throat, catching the attention of every single soldier, enemy and ally alike. Byleth screamed and screamed until the whole battlefield was enveloped in a green light.

_Four._

Claude flinched at how real those deaths felt and had to take a few minutes to catch his breath. He safely assumed this to be the worst nightmare of his life and was ready to ask Manuela about what kind of anesthetic she used on him. Again, the ethereal woman’s voice called out to him. Apparently, he was not awake yet. 

“Both sides of time are revealed to you…and you alone. You know I am the Beginning. What shall you do?”

_What?_

The scene in front of him changed. Thankfully, he was positioned above the scene rather than experiencing it firsthand. Falling rocks obstructed his gaze, but he saw a flash of pale skin and green hair. Byleth. She was falling off the cliff, screaming for help. Claude lunged forward instinctively, but he couldn’t reach her. He was doomed to watch this scene play out, to finally understand what happened to Teach that horrible day. Byleth fell onto the riverbank, her legs crushed under a boulder. Luckily, she hit her head first, so she didn’t feel the pain. Byleth’s body began to glow, like she did when she emerged from the hole she cut in the sky. 

“I promised to never do this to you, but if I don’t, you’ll die. My strength will be sapped from me for quite some time, but I can’t allow your death.” The ethereal woman’s voice echoed. 

Byleth’s eyes shot wide open with a completely empty expression. Raising her arm, the boulders lifted off her body and then Byleth herself began to rise just the way she fell, almost as if time reversed. 

_As if time reversed…._

The possibility of reversing time was something Claude considered briefly, but never gave serious thought to. If time was reversible, there were so many alternate possibilities to events. It explained the four deaths from his nightmare. It explained Byleth’s exhaustion and occasional fainting spells. It explained why she hid away in her tent or room after a seemingly victorious battle, even skipping the celebratory festivities. Claude was completely and utterly dumbfounded. 

“Everything will be known in time, dear child. Your fates have been woven together since the beginning of time.”

With one final laugh, the woman’s voice faded away. 

* * *

Claude woke up looking at the ceiling of the Archbishop’s quarters. His mind was still very cloudy and confused from the mental toll of the nightmare. The phantom pains of each of the deaths echoed in his limbs, but he waved them off by slowly sitting up. He didn’t feel the pain of his wounds thanks to the healing magic and surgery no doubt, but he felt the stiffness in his muscles from not having moved for some time. He noticed Manuela sitting between him and Byleth’s cots. 

“Do not move any further or you’ll tear your sutures,” the physician warned. She placed a needle into Byleth’s vein with what Claude could only assume to be some sort of medication. “It’s just a nutrient solution,” she said, noticing his gaze. 

“How is she?” he asked, clearing his throat in the process. Manuela finished administering the solution and then handed him a glass of water.

“Fine, actually. Her surgery took an ungodly amount of time and stamina, but physically, she’s completely fine. She’s not comatose either, but she hasn’t woken since the surgery. It’s been a few days now.”

“How is she not considered comatose when she hasn’t awoken in days? How many days has it been?”

“Three.”

Claude sighed in relief that it wasn’t more than that. 

“She’s not comatose because she will occasionally respond to us, not full sentences, but there’s still something. She just won’t wake up.” 

At the sound of Manuela’s voice, Byleth turned to face them, but her eyes were still shut. Manuela chuckled. 

“Teach?” he murmured softly.

“Hmmmm….Claude,” Byleth hummed to herself. Claude stood up abruptly. 

“Easy there tiger, let me do another round of white magic on your back.” Manuela quickly placed her left palm on his bandaged back. “Your sutures should be fine now, but no serious physical activity for another few days. No bows, no training room, just day-to-day walking, eating, and sleeping. Ask Raphael if you need to carry anything.” She paused, a slight glint in her eye. “Where does the Professor keep her casual wear? Specifically, shirts? She needs to change into one after I redress her bandage.”

“The small dresser in her closet, second drawer from the top,” Claude answered. His face flushed, realizing what he’d just admitted to. Manuela chuckled, regaining some of her flirtatious personality. 

“Hilda and I checked. There’s none in there.”

_Fuck. _

“Take one of mine. It’ll be huge, but that’s better for her anyway.” Hopefully, that would be enough to stop Manuela from pressing further information out of him. His answer combined with a knock at the door was enough. Nader walked in with a grin on his face when he saw Claude standing up. 

“Duke Riegan, I am glad to see you are awake and well,” he said with a slight bow of his head. “Shall I bring your things back to your quarters?”

“No, I’ll be back for them later. Let’s take a walk.” With that, Claude was officially discharged from the infirmary. Nader slowed his pace to meet Claude’s once they were outside. “Any contact from Almyra?”

“Yes,” confirmed Nader as he handed Claude a letter. “This just came in this morning.”

_Greetings Nader,_

_ Your updates on Claude’s health are much appreciated. As soon as he is ready to fly, you are to accompany him home, so he may claim what is his. His mother misses him dearly so._

_ Best regards._

The penmanship could only mean one thing: his father, the King of Almyra, was summoning him back. Claude sighed in frustration, not wanting to deal with the urgency of this. He had the Leicester Alliance to stabilize first before departing and many other things he wanted to do first.

“Claude?” Nader knew to only use his first name when they were truly alone. He also knew that one of the things on Claude’s list happened to involve one lucky archbishop.

“I will write to my parents. That should appease my mother for a few more days.” There was another pause of silence. Claude knew in his heart what he wanted to do. He schemed his way out of tough situations before, this should be no different. He pondered on the possibility of turning back time and its implications of divine intervention. “I will not return to Almyra until Byleth wakes up.”

“Manuela told me of her condition. There is no guarantee she will wake shortly, Claude. You can’t keep the King and Queen waiting for potentially another 5 years.” 

Claude winced. He wasn’t sure if he could handle that again. 

“She will wake up. She always has.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for making it through! And thank you to everyone who has commented and showed their support! It really means a lot that you enjoy my writing and Claudeleth as much as I do!
> 
> I'm currently doing the Blue Lions route, so I was really glad I could find a way to include some of them in this chapter. There needs to be so much more Dimitri/Claude interaction throughout the game ugh...
> 
> Anyways....softness is on the way, so do not worry :D


	5. Another Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been five weeks since their battle with Nemesis. The Golden Deer are ready to take on a mission to snuff out another faction of those who slither in the dark, but this time without their beloved Professor, who is still asleep at the moment. Claude does his best to insure Byleth's safety until they return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the heartbreak that was the last chapter, I am indulging in softness. Lots of softness (for the most part). As promised, these are smoother waters. Enjoy <3

Five weeks later, Claude and the other Golden Deer were ready to embark on a mission to snuff out another faction of those who slither in the dark. Preparations were being discussed: which battalions would stay behind to guard the monastery, which formation would work for the landscape, whose inventory to upgrade. Seteth was working over time as interim archbishop to maintain order in the new United Kingdom of Fódlan. Many of the noble families in the different regions were not terribly pleased, but were still cooperating nevertheless. 

Claude wrote another letter to this mother.

_Dearest Maman,_

_ When I return, I will not only claim the throne, but also have a potential queen by my side. Dreams will be fulfilled in time. Hold out a little more. She will wake up._

_ Kindly yours._

He sighed in frustration. These letters were getting tiring. In order to stave off his parents for a little longer, he sent Nader back to prepare for the coronation and the festivities that come with it. There was no doubt that the Almyran forces would have to secure the palace and that would take a couple weeks to figure out.

Judith and Lorenz were in the Leicester Alliance to quell the noble houses who sided with the Empire. Assimilating all the territories would be a grueling process, and Claude was worried about Byleth. Surely, she would need time to recover after waking before she could even deal with these politics. 

“If you’re going to be here for a few minutes, do you care to help me with the Professor’s physical therapy?” asked Manuela. Claude looked up from the makeshift desk he made next to Byleth’s cot.

“Yes, let me clear my things.” With a quick lift, his desk was moved out of the way. Claude grabbed one of Manuela’s sashes as the physician lifted Byleth up in a seated position. Wrapping the sash under Byleth’s shoulders and around her waist, Claude tied her to his back in a piggyback position. Once she was secured, he walked around the room letting gravity aid in the blood flow to her limbs. Claude started doing loops around the room, avoiding all of the things he brought from his room. He chuckled at the thought of Byleth waking up to this pigsty of all his books, papers, maps, and battle strategies. She would definitely berate him for it, but he was looking forward to it. 

Claude made sure that there was always a Golden Deer with the Professor throughout her days in the infirmary. Sometimes that meant Raphael would host a feast and invite the occasional knight to join him. Sometimes it was Hilda and Marianne working on different trinkets and jewelry together. They made a bracelet where each Golden Deer contributed a charm design to represent each them. Lorenz scoffed at the idea, but he was the first to suggest a calendula charm for healing. Lysithea was often found in Byleth’s quarters debating cake recipes with Felix. Their debates would sometimes be interrupted by the Professor’s chuckles, but she still wouldn’t wake up. Leonie and Lorenz sometimes shared their teatimes next to Byleth as well—they’d drink the Professor’s favorite teas in hopes that the aroma would trigger her awakening. Sylvain usually loitered and flirted with Manuela just to pass the time, but he made sure never to get in the way of Manuela’s check-ups.

After the first few nights in his own quarters, Claude realized he couldn’t leave Byleth alone overnight, so he slowly began moving his things into the archbishop’s room. By the time Manuela noticed, it was too late. He began sleeping on his own cot with Muta keeping watch on the balcony. Manuela and the Golden Deer knew it would be ridiculous to try and stop him, so they didn’t even bother. Claude was actually grateful because it was one of the few times in the day that he could have the peace and quiet he needed to read on Sothis and her time-turning abilities. Not to mention he was probably the only person who knew Byleth sleep walked because of his nights there. 

One night, he was reading about Sothis and her slumber in the Holy Tomb when he heard a rustling of the sheets. His heart leapt to his throat, thinking that Byleth was finally awake, but she wasn’t. She turned to face him and started moving her hands around as if she were cooking. 

“No….fish….” she mumbled. Claude started laughing and tried to guide her back to bed, but she wouldn’t. “Fish….Flayn…” And thus, he was forced to join her on her faux cooking escapade before she was satisfied with her work and went back to sleep. 

Another night, he assumed she was dreaming about Jeralt because he woke up to her poking his side. When he turned around, she crawled into bed and hugged him, asking for her bear. 

“What bear?” he asked, groggily.

“From the lady in Remire Village, Papa.” 

Claude leapt out of bed, nearly spooked half to death. The flurry of emotions he felt from being called “Papa” couldn’t be shaken off quickly. He always wanted to have his own children call him that and that was all he could think about now—the kids he wanted with Byleth. 

“I’ll get you the bear, go back to your own bed, Teach.” Byleth got up and shuffled over to her own bed before flopping down face first. 

_Is this what she’s like as a child?_

Claude looked high and low for anything resembling a bear, but decided he would just give her his cloak for the night. He spent the next week sleeping on the lounge chair.

The memory of those nights flowed through his mind as Manuela prepared a chair on the balcony in the sunlight. After a few minutes walking around, Claude carried Byleth over to the chair and undid the sash, so she could sit in the sun. One promising sign that he noticed was that she was heavier in spite of five weeks of nutrient solutions.He knew Raphael and Lysithea would be ready with meals and desserts for her to stuff herself with. As Manuela began to move Byleth’s limbs around with white magic, he proceeded to write in a little notebook he kept at her bedside. It was a small diary with daily entries on what transpired throughout the day complete with dates. Watching Byleth fall off the cliff and knowing her torment at waking up 5 years later, he felt it was the least he could do.

_29th day of the Horsebow Moon, 1185._

_ Preparing for the next mission—taking out another faction of those who slither in the dark. I helped you with physical therapy today. I’ve decided to leave Muta to protect you, and I’ll take your wyvern instead. Don’t worry, she’ll be in good hands. The mission shouldn’t take more than 3 days, taking into account unexpected turns and travel. _

* * *

Sunlight filtered through the curtains and splashed across Byleth’s face. The unevenness of the warmth on her skin made her toss and turn. Slowly and begrudgingly, she woke up, trying to curl up under the covers a little bit longer. She came to her senses when she was overwhelmed by the scent of Almyran pine needles. The shirt she had on was much too plush and comfortable to be hers. She only had two white undershirts anyway and none of them were large enough for her to tuck her knees into. She sat up, realizing the sleeves were also much too long. Byleth felt like a child. She sat up and realized she was wearing her black pajama shorts too.

Something about the atmosphere put Byleth on edge. She recognized the archbishop’s quarters, but she also knew that Rhea should’ve been using this room. There was a plethora of medical supplies and books and maps strewn about the room. No doubt the work of Manuela and Claude. Byleth threw back the covers and stood up, only for her legs to give out beneath her. She realized her torso was heavily bandaged, but she didn’t feel any pain, just stiffness. Heavy steps slowly lumbered over to her, and she smelled Muta’s hot breath in her face. The wyvern was standing over her, softly chuffing at her. His eyes gazed into hers before he tilted his head, offering his horns for her to grasp. 

“Thank you, Muta,” Byleth murmured, giving the wyvern a soft pet on its snout. Muta raised his head and lifted her back to her feet. Once she felt the pins and needles leave her legs, she let go and slowly unraveled her bandages. New scars puckered her arms and torso, and there was a nasty scar over her heart. It snaked and branched its way across her skin in the shape of the Crest of Flames. She hitched a breath, remembering what had happened. “Where is everyone, Muta?” The wyvern just tilted its head at her as she made her way over to the doors. 

Byleth peeked out and didn’t see a single guard in the halls or in the staircase. She slammed the doors shut and locked them. She ran to the balcony and saw no one in the monastery. No clergymen, merchants, or students roamed the courts or halls from what she could see. She sank to her knees, her breaths came in short quick bursts. A pain in her chest began to bloom as she placed her head between her knees. She couldn’t breathe and her vision was spotting. Her breaths were becoming wheezes, and her body began to tremble uncontrollably—a panic attack. 

_ Where is everyone? How long did I sleep for? Where is Claude? What happened to everyone? What year is it? WHAT. YEAR. IS. IT?_

Byleth curled up on her side, waiting for the panic to stop. She remembered the deep breathing exercises Claude taught her and tried to remember how long to breathe out and hold her breath for. In doing so, she became aware that she was surrounded by his scent again. Muta curled on the floor next to her, keeping her warm. After several minutes, her breathing slowed to normal. She sat up again, and Muta nudged her forward. Byleth noticed that Claude left his cloak on her bed and his headband on her side table. She sniffed the cloak. It still smelled like him, so it hasn’t been too long since he’d been here. The headband had the faint smell of sweat attached to, so Byleth knew it hasn’t been years since Claude was last year. That brought her some ease. She noticed a small notebook underneath the headband. She opened it, skimming through the entries. According to the diary, it only seemed to be a little over a month since Nemesis was defeated…and Rhea’s death.

_ Rhea died? _

There was a small pang in her chest. She knew the archbishop wasn’t in good health when they left for the final battle, but she didn’t think that Rhea would’ve died while they were away. She wondered what could’ve happened for things to turn worse. She skipped ahead to the most recent entry.

_ 29th day of the Horsebow Moon, 1185._

Byleth sighed in relief. It was only five weeks at most. Everyone was fine, but she was still suspicious at the lack of guards. Just because there was a mission at hand didn’t mean all the battalions left. It seemed that Garreg Mach was relatively defenseless at the moment. She knew Claude would’ve never let that happen, even with Muta as insurance. That meant the mission was more of a pain than expected, which would’ve required reinforcements. Byleth stretched her limbs out and grabbed her armor. Though the armor had no problems fitting her torso, she had to tighten the armor plates around her arms and legs a little bit more than usual. She threw on the plush sleeping shirt over her armor for comfort and put on Claude’s cloak as well. Though Byleth preferred keeping her hair down in battle, she knew flying would make her bedhead significantly worse. Using Claude’s headband, she tied up her hair into a high ponytail.

The only weapons she could find were her Sword of the Creator, a Steel Sword, and an Iron Bow. She also grabbed a few Vulneraries from Manuela’s medical supplies as well as some apples. Even if she felt she wasn’t exactly fit for battle, she could at least deliver Muta to Claude. The bond between the two was something she could never truly hope to understand. Claude was at his best riding his wyvern. Muta stretched his wings, realizing what Byleth was intending to do. He roared into the open sky, as Byleth climbed on.

“Please take it easy on me,” she pleaded. Muta seemed to laugh in response. He would never dare to do anything to Byleth, but she wasn’t sure of that yet. As he walked to the edge of the balcony ready to dive, they heard the clanking of armor, coming up the stairs. Byleth froze and turned around with her bow drawn. 

_ Not yet, Muta. _

Deep voices were yelling on the other side as they banged on the door and fiddled with the locked knob. Byleth took a deep breath and brought the bowstring by the side of her face, ready to take down any intruder. She released her breath as the door burst open and men ran into the room. The arrow nearly slipped from her fingers if it wasn’t for a flash of yellow. 

Claude.

Byleth lowered her bow immediately as a small sparkle returned to her eyes. 

“Pretty rude to keep a lady waiting like that, you know?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! So basically now that I've reached this point, I believe I'll have two more chapters. (I know I said this awhile ago, but the actual meat and potatoes of my plot are done at this point....so I think it's more accurate for me to say this now.) I'm on break so those should be out within the next couple weeks!


	6. An Emerald Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude and Byleth have a lot to catch up on now that she's finally awake. The couple decide to bear their secrets to each other, including goddess-like abilities, important royal lineages, and perhaps, undying love. Confessions are bound to be made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience! The holidays were surprisingly busier than expected. Also...I had writer's block and rewrote this chapter a whopping 6 times because it just simply wasn't good enough for my own liking. Hope you like my spin on their S-support conversation :D
> 
> The last chapter is next!

“Gotta say that’s a little funny coming from you, Teach. This is what…the second time you’ve left me waiting?” Claude replied with a playful smirk. Byleth looked down quietly. 

“If you’ll excuse us, I have a lot to catch the archbishop up on before she gets swamped.” Taking their cue, the knights retreated from the room without a complaint. 

Claude reached out a hand to Byleth as she slid off his wyvern’s saddle—her grip a very blatant indication that she was in no way fit for battle. With a slight nod and a small fish, Muta was released from several weeks’ worth of guard duty. A great flap of his wings was all it took for Byleth to stumble slightly, and Claude took the opportunity to wrap his other arm around her waist, hugging her to him. He pressed his face into her shoulder gently, relishing her warmth.

“I’m sorry to make you wait aga-”

“I’m sorry for hurting you.”

They both stiffened as their apologies interrupted each other before chuckling to themselves. Claude pulled away to look Byleth in the eyes. 

“You first.”

“I’m sorry to make you wait again because of my carelessness.”

Claude was taken aback by the phrasing.

“Neither of us thought there would be more after Edelgard, let alone Nemesis. Someone would’ve picked it up as we scavenged the battle site.” He paused. “I’m sorry for aiming to kill.” His arms loosened their hold around her waist out of shame. Claude wanted so badly to just hug Byleth for an eternity, simply out of relief that she was alive. “I’m sorry for gambling your life against the odds. I promise to never do it again.”

Byleth was stunned. She never thought of the situation as gambling her life against the odds, largely because of the pull of Sothis’ power. As Claude pulled away, she only began to grasp the weight of the responsibility on his shoulders. She reached a hand to his cheek and lightly rubbed her thumb to gaze into his soft, emerald eyes. The painful storm that swirled in his eyes sucked her in and spat out a fresh pain in her chest.

“It took me everything I had to get back to you. I remember the looks on all your faces. I couldn’t break through until I heard your voice…all of your voices. I put my complete trust in you to read my cues and understand. Claude, you did what I needed you to do to get me out. We both bet on my life, but I was more sure than you.”

“Is it because of the Divine Pulse?” he asked. The swirling storm subsided to bring that curious light in his eyes. Byleth stiffened and tried to pull away. The Divine Pulse was a secret she kept hidden simply because the consequences of that knowledge spreading would’ve endangered every single person in the monastery. Claude’s arms nestled themselves tighter around her, making escape impossible. 

“How did you find out about that?”

“A nightmare and consistently pestering Seteth to give me some restricted books.” Claude noticed a twitch in Byleth’s eyebrow, a sign of restraint. 

“Where are my manners letting a bed-ridden patient stand and idly chat with me for so long?” Claude pondered aloud before sweeping Byleth up into his arms and pressing a soft kiss to her lips, a kiss of love and protection and want. 

Byleth’s cheeks blossomed into a hazy pink as she pressed her face into Claude’s shoulder. She realized the warmth she’s always wanted was him. His presence always put her at ease while his quick wit kept her on her toes. Though Byleth was more aware, she was only just scraping the surface of understanding this deep well of uncovered emotions. She knew this feeling she had to be what most people called love. According to Hilda, love encompassed happiness, trust, respect, and admiration at the very least. Claude sat her on the bed, letting her back rest against the headboard, before joining her side. Their fingers intertwined naturally, and Byleth smiled. After everything they’ve been through, after asking Claude to kill her, Byleth knew she should trust him. She should tell him everything, including her feelings. She silently vowed not to make the same mistake twice.

“Obtaining the Divine Pulse was a secret I was prepared to take to the grave with me. I’ve had it since the night we met, since the bandit tried to kill Edelgard. That was the first time it was used, but only because Sothis did it to save my life. I’ve used it several times since then and as my powers grew, I could turn back time more often.”

“So ripping through the darkness…?”

“That was when Sothis and I merged together. She gave me her powers and vanished from my consciousness. Rhea wasn’t wrong about that.”

“You used that when we were falling didn’t you?”

“It was the weakest Divine Pulse I could ever produce. I only slowed our time down enough for Muta to catch up to us, that’s all.”

Claude noticed their intertwined hands were getting sweaty, whether it was Byleth’s fear of divulging such information or his own excitement to have his theories being proven, he was not sure. He rested his chin on Byleth’s head and breathed slowly. 

“How many times have you used it?” he asked, hesitantly. Byleth noticed his thirst for knowledge dripping from every word he uttered.

“Too many. I did it to save as many students as possible. If I overdo it, I cause internal bleeding.” She laughed dryly. “For you though, four times.” Claude noticed her wince at the word “four.”

“The sepsis. The burned eyes. The sword through the chest. The wyverns ripping me apart,” Claude replied. Byleth whipped up abruptly to look at him, her grip on his hand tightened painfully. The horror she felt pooled in her eyes. 

“You’re not supposed to remember any of that.”

“I didn’t. You just proved my nightmare was real, which I believe to be Sothis’ doing.” The sentence left Byleth utterly perplexed and somber. She hadn’t seen the Goddess in several years.

“You spoke to Sothis?”

“Are there any other Fódlanian entities I should be aware of?” Claude received a light smack in the chest from Byleth. “She showed me how she saved you. You were crushed by boulders, and she possessed your physical form to save your life, but at great cost.”

“Yeah, five years of consciousness.” Byleth sighed and rested her head on Claude’s shoulder once more. She had a feeling Sothis did such a thing, but she never really wanted to believe it. Divine intervention had its benefits at great cost—Byleth wondered if her powers would wane slowly. Claude pulled her from her thoughts by kissing the top of her head. Byleth let herself smile. “I’m sorry for falling asleep again.”

“Nah, Teach. I should be thanking you for silently saving me all these years. Not just me, but everyone else at the monastery should be thanking you.” Claude’s signature smirk returned. “To be fair, your sleepwalking habits the past few weeks made up for some of it.”

Byleth’s eyes widened. She was not aware of what happened to her last time, but the villager said she was largely comatose and unresponsive. 

“I’m afraid to ask what I’ve done,” she chuckled, trying to play it off as a joke. 

“Oh, you did a lot of scandalous things. One time you called me ‘Papa’ and asked for your bear before crawling into bed with me.”

“Stop lying, Claude,” Byleth scoffed, her cheeks red. She never called Jeralt ‘Papa’ in the real world. The only time she did it was in the dream… Perhaps some of her dreams bled into her sleepwalking habits? She didn’t remember much of her dreams to begin with, so there would be no way to refute anything Claude said. 

“C’mon Teach. You know I have no reason to lie.” Claude clutched a hand to his chest, feigning offense. He turned to face her and released his hand from hers. Byleth sat up as Claude started playing with some loose strands of her hair. A comforting silence passed between the two. Claude relished the soft pink that splashed across her cheeks and the tip of her nose. He noticed his headband loosening its grip on her ponytail. With a soft tug, the headband came undone as did Byleth’s hair. She blinked slowly, confused. Claude grinned at her and placed his hands on her waist. 

“What are yo-?” Byleth tried to ask before she was silenced by a kiss. In a time without war, Claude was able to relish this moment to the fullest. He let his hands slip under the white shirt, his shirt, and under the armor Byleth cleverly wore. The armor prevented his hands from roaming further than her waist, but it was more than enough. His lips were soft, but firm and urged Byleth to explore. She gasped a little as she was pushed backwards onto the pillows. Her hands came up to Claude’s shoulders, but continued upwards to entangle themselves in his hair. 

Byleth knew she was holding back her feelings since she came back to the monastery. She always rationalized it as part of her duty as a Professor to ensure the safety of everyone first, and she was worried that her lack of emotional understanding, specifically love, would distract from her mission. Feeling Claude’s lips on hers and the warmth of his body, Byleth finally, **finally** gave in. Tears of joy slid down her cheeks. She was so inexplicably happy it felt like she held the warmth of a thousand summer days. The ancient dam that staunched her emotions finally crumbled to dust. Whatever **_this_** was, she wanted more. On instinct, her lips parted slightly, the tip of her tongue hesitantly pressed against his. It only lasted a brief moment as Claude deepened the kiss and pressed closer to her. A soft moan escaped from Byleth. Her eyes flew open, swimming in embarrassment. Claude pulled away with scarlet cheeks. Something about his gaze was so tender, but also so ravenous. Byleth averted her eyes.

“Almyran garb suits you.” It was a sheepish attempt to break the sudden void. 

“Almyran? Aren’t these yours?” As she posed her question, Claude’s hand brushed her side, just a little too high and she twitched before she could stop it. 

“Teach? Are you… ticklish?” With a twinkle in his eye, Claude began his assault. His hands poked at Byleth’s skin until he rediscovered the spot on her side that made her laugh recklessly. Her laughs echoed off the walls as her arms flailed. 

“Claude…stop…tickling…ME!” she tried to say between flurries of tickles. Claude’s smile reached his eyes, now completely scrunched up from laughter. Byleth realized she truly loved these moments of him letting his guard down in front of her, of Claude being the goofball sweetheart she knew him to be. As for herself, Byleth loved being able to laugh from the bottom of her heart with him, of being able to let go of her Ashen Demon demeanor with him. Eventually, she found the strength to crush him down into a hug and press her face into his neck.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop,” Claude wheezed, trying to still his painfully sore sides. Byleth’s cheeks were sore from all the smiling, alas her muscles were not used to such a thing. 

“You’re related to the royal Almyran family aren’t you?” 

The question took Claude by surprise, giving Byleth the second she needed to explain her thoughts. She turned on her side to face him. 

“To my knowledge, there are no dukes in Almyra—just the royal family. Based on your attire, the quality of fabric, and your ability to get Almyra’s best general to aid us, my odds of being right are quite high."

Claude conceded and admitted he was the crown prince of Almyra. His humble origins were the result of his mother, the Duchess of House Riegan, eloping with his father, the King of Almyra. He noticed Byleth’s expression pinch inwards slightly when he mentioned that he would have to return to claim his birthright now that she was awake. Happiness came at a cost, and this was another painful reminder of that. 

“I’m sorry that I won’t be by your side for your coronation, but I’m certain you’ll do great,” he said. 

Byleth stayed silent, but hugged him tightly. Both were fated to be neighboring rulers it seemed. She smiled, realizing the cleverness of the scheme. Neighboring countries could finally open their borders when two rulers loved each other, though she had no idea how their relationship would ever work out from so far. 

_ Can my best advisor be the King of Almyra?_

“After all this time, I realized what I really wanted was to see the dawn of a new world, with you by my side. That’s why I have to leave, but not for long,” he said, kneeling on the floor. He pulled out something from his pocket, but a ray of sunshine caught the glint of the shiny object blinding Byleth. She blinked a few times to steady her gaze and saw an emerald ring in Claude’s hand—the same color, the same sparkle as his eyes. Byleth was stunned speechless, her mouth falling open.

“Please…I hope you’ll accept this.” Wordlessly, Byleth knelt down to eye-level with Claude and grasped his hands with her own. Joyous tears pricked at her eyes again as he slid the ring on to her finger. She held his face in her hands, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Byleth knew it was time and gave a silent prayer of thanks to Jeralt. Fumbling with the clasp behind her neck, she revealed a thin silver chain with her mother’s ring. 

“It was my mother’s. I’m not sure if it’ll fit you, but I hope you’ll accept this too.” It was Claude’s turn to gape in shock. One quick look determined the ring would need re-sizing. Claude closed his eyes and let Byleth place the makeshift necklace around his own neck. He held the ring in his hand admiring the craftmanship. 

“The future King of Almyra accepts your proposal.” He winked. “Thank you…for everything. I’ll be back before you know it. We’ll only be apart for a short while. I’m off to cross Fódlan’s Throat tomorrow.” Wrapping an arm around her waist, Claude pulled her in for a hug. 

“I love you,” whispered Byleth.

“I love you. With everything I am,” murmured Claude.

* * *

Seteth, Flayn, and Manuela arrived at the archbishop’s quarters as soon as they could. Upon barging in, they found Claude and Byleth curled around each other in a restful sleep—their hands clasped together, rings gleaming in the sunlight. 


	7. A Fated Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude and Byleth are finally reunited and share quite a few tender moments before his duty to Almyra tears them apart. Though Byleth loves and supports Claude, a flurry of emotions lead her to the one truth--she will miss him dearly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay. Things are difficult when you're trying to complete your masters thesis (LOL). Anyways, I kept writing the ending and realized it was the length of almost 3 chapters, so I decided to split it because it felt weird to have a huge chunk done and ready, but not post it at all after such a long time. I hope you enjoy!

Byleth woke up in Claude’s arms. The musk of battle still clung to his skin. His expression was gentle and completely relaxed—the usual wrinkle of his brows smoothed over with sleep. He was truly tired. As she adjusted to lay better in his arms, his brow twitched. A chuckle escaped Byleth. She noticed the way the sunlight filtered through his dark hair and caught some of his lighter strands in the messy fray. It was as if she was opening her eyes to a completely different world. All the details she never let herself focus on were suddenly crystal clear to her. One side of Claude’s beard seemed to grow in quicker than the other. Alas, war has made routine personal hygiene a trivial thing. 

She cupped his face in her hands, rubbing her thumbs across his beard before playing with the locks that always seemed to fall across his face. 

“Is my face really that interesting?” he mumbled. Slightly taken aback, Byleth hid her face in his neck, breathing him in. 

“It’s…nice to see you relaxed…that’s all.” 

Claude crushed her into another hug and rolled them over so she lay on top of his chest. 

“It’s easy to relax with you,” he said into the top of her head. She listened to the muted thud of his heartbeat beneath his chestplate. The small reverberations echoed throughout the metal. It was so steady and so calm, yet so strong. She wondered what it would be like to have a heartbeat. Though life pulsed through her veins, her heartbeat was hollow. She wondered what it would’ve been like if the Crest of Flames actually broke and disappeared with Claude’s fatal shot. Would she regain a heartbeat? Or would she be truly dead? What would the rest of her life be like?

As a former mercenary, Byleth was used to just getting through the days until the next job was assigned. As a former professor, she was used to constantly planning lessons for her students, but they were no longer her students. They were her comrades. And Claude… Claude became someone she wanted to be with for the rest of her life. She sighed, impatiently wanting that part of her life now. She knew Claude has his reasons for returning to Almyra, but she also knew that while he was accustomed to her absence, she was not. It would be tough, considering the situation meant their time could be longer than she’d liked. If all went well, Byleth wondered if she would split her time between Derdriu, Garreg Mach, and Almyra. For the moment, all she knew was that she wasn’t happy that he was leaving and that she couldn’t be selfish to ask him to stay.

“I’ll be back for you,” Claude promised, as if he could read her thoughts simply by holding her.

“Don’t make me come after you,” Byleth threatened. Their eyes met, and Claude, understanding the gravity of the situation, pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Lacing her fingers into his hair, she sighed into his mouth. He chuckled and rolled over, pressing her into the mattress. His calloused palms cupped her face gently before they began to lazily, yet curiously roam across her skin. Enticed by his touch, Byleth instinctively pressed her body into his, leaving no space between.

Claude knew the pain of their separation would only get worse after this. 

* * *

The next morning, Garreg Mach was bustling with the clergymen, nobles, and commoners alike. Byleth was about to depart from her morning tea with Hilda and Marianne, but stopped in the doorway to give the two ladies a warm hug.

“It’s good to see you back at it again, Professor,” Marianne said kindly. Byleth gently squeezed her hand. 

“Thank you for everything—the advice, both medical and personal.”

“Of course, Professor! Any time you need us, we will be at your beck and call, especially when it comes to matters of romance,” Hilda joked, with a quick wink. 

“I never said anything about romance, Hilda.”

“Believe me when I say, I’m not blind to matters of the heart. Remember, it’s always best to be honest, but **especially** with Claude. Now, go get your supplies.” With a quick shove, Byleth was kicked out of Hilda’s room where the two former students continued their tea. She headed toward the marketplace and was grateful that she used a hooded cloak to keep her as inconspicuous as possible. All she needed was to do some shopping before Claude’s departure, and she didn’t need to worry about drawing everyone’s attention. Not yet, at least. With the help of Flayn and Manuela, she was avoiding Seteth who was ready to debrief her on mission reports and the needs of the church. She would handle all of that when Claude was in Almyra, so she could prove to be a capable ruler alongside the new king. 

_“Let’s keep our engagement a secret…for now,” he said, as he left a lazy trail of kisses down her neck._

_ “Claude, if you’re using our engagement for political gain, I swear on Sothis…”_

_ “My love, the timing of it will make better sense if I ‘officially’ propose when I’m king. We’ll take both nations by surprise and garner their support effortlessly. Not to mention, wouldn’t it be suspicious for a newly engaged couple to be apart?” he winked._

_ Byleth rolled her eyes at him, but still hugged him to her tightly._

_ “Also, I got you a friend. He’s a young Almyran falcon, name Hide. If you want to correspond with me personally, use him. I already trained him to follow and obey only you, plus my mother made sure he has the strongest protection spell, so he shouldn’t be intercepted.”_

Remembering their early morning exchange, Byleth looked up to see that the two-tailed falcon was indeed circling her from above. She blushed. The glove on her left hand was starting to make her skin itch. How on earth did Claude manage to be such a skilled Barbarossa with gloves?

“Greetings, Professor! Nothing to report!” greeted the Gatekeeper. Byleth raised a finger to her lips, causing him to quiet his demeanor. “On a covert mission, are we?”

“Just want to get some shopping before Seteth drags me into more debriefings.” The Gatekeeper nodded and gave a quick smile as she went on her way. It didn’t take her long to find the things that she needed, not that she could purchase much anyway, or it would bog down Muta. A couple boxes of Almyran Pine Needle Tea, a thicker riding cloak, and a mini chess set later, her care package was complete. Byleth also made sure to fold up the cloak and shirt he lent her into the bundle of goods. It wasn’t much, but hopefully, it would ease Claude’s mind while he was busy getting coronated.

“Professor, may I discuss something with you?” asked Lorenz. Byleth didn’t want to think of Lorenz as another intrusion, but she knew his discussion would take longer than she had right now. Claude warned her as much. His decision to put Lorenz as the Interim Head of the Alliance in his absence did not sit well with the typically confident noble.

“Lorenz, I understand that Claude dropped a lot of responsibility on you, but that discussion will have to wait until after he has departed.”

“Professor, my concern is that he’s leaving without telling anyone where he is going. What young, prestigious Duke would just abandon his title like that without saying where he is going? This is too suspicious, even for you Professor. Unless…you know where he is going?”

Ah, that’s what Lorenz was getting at. 

“Lorenz, you must understand that no one ever truly knows what is going on with Claude, not even I. At the very least, I trust him to come back and reclaim his position. Don’t you?” Lorenz was rendered speechless at that. “We’ll discuss this further over tea tomorrow.” The young noble nodded and gave a quick bow before heading towards the bridge. Byleth followed suit to meet Claude. 

She hugged the bundle of gifts closer to her as she waded through the crowd. It would only be a matter of time before Seteth found her at the bridge and dragged her away as soon as Claude took off. The Knights of Seiros were keeping everyone off the bridge, except for the Golden Deer and the professors.   
  


“Alois, please let me pass.” Silently, the Knight stepped aside for her. The rest of the Deer were already there, wishing Claude well on his travels. 

Raphael, who hadn’t had a chance to meet Byleth prior, crushed her into a huge hug. 

“Professor! I’m glad you’re awake! If you need any heavy lifting done, remember I’m your guy!” Byleth laughed as she was returned to the ground and patted his arm kindly in gratitude. Lysithea cut through the crowd and held on to her tightly. She wrapped her arms around the younger mage in reassurance. Looking up, she gave a nod to Ignatz, Leonie, Felix, and Sylvain—all students she needed to speak with afterwards.

“Hey, Teach! I know you’re popular, but I have to head out soon.” Her attention turned to Claude, standing there with a grin on his face. She smiled back, holding out the care package. 

“I just got you some small gifts for the road,” she said quietly. Part of her was happy for Claude to reach the next step of his dream, but part of her was upset that they didn’t have more time together. More exactly, that she wouldn’t be there to see that next step. As Byleth became more honest with her feelings, she realized that some of things she felt were probably selfish.

“Thanks, Teach!” he said, after taking a quick peek at the gifts. “Although…some of these items aren’t mine.” Byleth’s expression contorted in confusion.

“What do you mean?” she asked as he pulled out his cloak and shirt and placed them back in her arms.

“Think of these as small parting gifts to remind you of me,” he said with a wink. Byleth gave him a light punch in the arm, but was quick to remove her cloak and put his on. Almost immediately, she felt the tightness in her chest release. She pulled the plush fabric tightly towards herself. Hilda told her to be honest with Claude, but she wasn’t even sure if this would be the appropriate time. _Oh to hell with it…_

“I’m scared of how much I’m going to miss you, but…I know the only thing I can do is trust that you come back. I know you believed in me when you didn’t even know I was alive, so I can at least believe in you now, right?” Her voice cracked. A few tears slipped. She wasn’t sure if she could handle her new role as the official archbishop without him, her confidant, by her side. She was only supposed to be a professor and even that was a twist of fate. To think, that she would be ruling a whole continent and a church of a religion she didn’t strictly believe in, it was a bit much to swallow upon waking up. Claude saw her expression darken from the sudden realization of responsibilities and quickly threw his care package into one of Muta’s saddle packs. 

“Oh, By,” he murmured, pulling her towards him. “I’ll miss you so much. Just remember, it’ll only be for a short while. Remember, I lo-.”

“Love you with everything I am.” Byleth wiggled her left hand at him, the hand now covered by a glove. “Don’t worry, your ring will help remind me of that.” She felt him chuckle, then sigh. “I love you, Claude.”

“I know.” Though the two couldn’t share their affections publicly just yet, they stood there in silence, eyes closed, foreheads gently pressed. The Golden Deer continued to talk amongst themselves, creating a perimeter, but giving the very-obvious-couple their space. 

With that, the two parted ways with a smile. Claude could’ve sworn he saw a loose tear slip down Byleth’s cheek, but she was too quick. She turned around and walked away, leaving him and Muta on the bridge. He watched her back, now splashed with yellow against her sea foam hair, fade into the crowd. The image was bittersweet and left Claude a little crestfallen. He was expecting to see her smiling up at him as he took off, or, at the very least, for her **to stay** and see him depart.

The Almyran prince knew not to complain, though. He preferred that image instead of Byleth screaming as she fell off the cliff five years ago. Claude shook off the painful memories as he and Muta took off towards Fódlan’s Throat. He was already eager to get the coronation over with and make some changes to Almyra to push for open borders. After the previous night’s events left him with an ache in his muscles, he could only say that he needed to get the diplomatic side of things moving much faster. He needed to come up with a plan of attack to shorten the coronation celebrations that would normally take a couple weeks. In all honesty, Claude wasn’t sure how long he could stay away from Byleth. 

Muta, noticing his rider lost in thought, sank closer to the clouds. The wyvern let out a low rumble as if enjoying the company of his shadow, but there was a hint of excitement—one that an experience rider would be able to sense immediately. 

Claude didn’t sense any signs of danger through his wyvern, but nevertheless, he kept a hand on his sword as the shadow beneath them loomed closer. Muta outstretched his claws to catch the shadow. Suddenly, the clouds began to roll in waves and dissipate. The shadow sped forward and burst from the cloud, leaving a trail of icy mist. A dark, chestnut wyvern rose in front of them, and its rider pulled her snout backward for a lazy loop. A laugh rained down on Claude. He looked up to a flash of pale green eyes meeting his own. The soon-to-be king let out a loud whoop, pulling Muta into a spiral dive. He shouldn’t have been surprised to see Byleth regain her strength to fly—he was _her _teacher in that respect.

The two wyverns lazily circled each other as their riders dared each other to get closer and closer with every arc. Byleth outstretched her arm as he arced above her, hanging upside down. Her fingertips managed to slip through some of his hair, and she laughed. Claude grinned and righted his wyvern to fly side-by-side with her. 

“You just couldn’t stay away from me that long, could you?” he teased. 

“Well, I think it’s within my right to give you a proper escort,” she playfully retorted. 

“How long will I have the joy of your company, my lady?”

“When I see Fódlan’s Throat on the horizon, I will turn back. I’m sure Nader or at least an Almyran wyvern platoon will be there to welcome his future Highness.”

“How did you sneak out of the stables?”

Byleth quirked an eyebrow. It lasted merely a moment, but it was all Claude needed.

“Hilda.”

“And Marianne and technically Dorte too. They decided to help distract some of the guards and Seteth.”

“I’ll be sure to send them my gratitude somehow.”

They flew in silence after that, just relishing each other’s presence. The two wyverns moving in ever so slightly to give each other chirps or a playful bump in the snout. Byleth smiled. One of her favorite things about flying was how far away everything seemed to be. She could be lost in the clouds for hours if she wanted to, especially when the sun set. The pastel colors tinting the sky felt so peaceful to her. Most of all, she loved how close she felt to Claude by flying, how she got a better glimpse into the world he saw daily. It wasn’t a skill she was intending on learning, but he convinced her that it was important to understand both pegasi and wyverns for battle strategies. Byleth did learn a lot and always adjusted her battle plans to contain better contingency plans for all riders afterwards—plans that saved as many riders and steeds as possible. 

It was about an hour later that Byleth’s back started to ache. She wasn’t completely back to her full strength, but she thought she would’ve at least lasted until Fódlan’s Throat. A low hiss escaped her, garnering her wyvern’s attention. Pressing a hand to the wyvern’s neck, she loosened the reins and laid on her back to ease the soreness. 

“You all right there, Teach?”

“Yeah, just sore and tired.”

“That’s from your five-week nap, right? Unless…it was from last night?” Claude asked the latter question more quietly.

“Both.”

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Byleth noticed the Eastern Church out of the corner of her eye. The dreaded moment had arrived. Sitting up gingerly, she looked at the man she loved. 

“I guess this is it, your Highness.” Her voice didn’t waver, but her tone was somber. Muta angled himself so Claude could reach for her hand if only for a brief moment. The wyverns pulled away to avoid tangling their wings, much to Byleth’s disappointment. With a squeeze of his legs, Claude urged Muta upwards. Byleth and her wyvern followed. At the peak of their ascent, Claude flipped upside down once again, except he was sitting backwards to face her. Their faces were merely inches apart. Without thinking, she closed the distance between them, catching Claude by surprise. Their lips settled against each other softly and effortlessly with a hint of desperation. It was the most they could do for their last kiss for some time. Again, the wyverns pulled them apart to return to a more sustainable flight position. 

“I’ll see you soon, By.”

“Be safe, Claude.”

Their unspoken “I love you’s” fluttered in each other’s hearts.


	8. Ruler of Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After spending months apart, Byleth and Claude are reunited again, on a fiery battlefield, but this time for good. Seriously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finished this before I finished my thesis...who would've guessed?! I can't believe it's finally done... this is so bittersweet for me.

A few months later, Byleth was rather well-adjusted to the duties of an archbishop. She met with the clergy twice a week to discuss church business, while she met with a newly formed council, that included nobles from Faerghus, Adrestia, and Leicester, a few times a month in Derdriu. Her former students were either heads of their houses, helping with the church, or fulfilling their duties in other occupations. Hilda, Marianne, Felix, and Sylvain were her most common visitors. In honor of Ingrid’s memory, the newly appointed Duke Fraldarius and Margrave Gautier often came to help train new recruits for the Knights of Seiros. Marianne and Hilda established their own artisan academy and decided to hold some of their classes in Garreg Mach. 

Of all the duties she had, Byleth despised giving sermons the most. Public speaking was not a forte of the former mercenary. It didn’t help that she loosened the teachings of Seiros to the dismay of quite a few clergymen. Seteth and Flayn primarily led the sermons, though they both submitted their sermons in writing to Byleth for approval prior. 

With the help of Raphael, Ignatz, Lysithea, and Leonie, an orphanage was established in the monastery to aid the children affected by the war. Raphael and Leonie taught them basic fighting skills, while Ignatz and Lysithea fostered the children’s love of creative arts, sweet delicacies, and moving through life’s woes. When they came of age, the children could decide if they wanted to become students at the monastery, learn a trade, or simply travel to new places. Cyril was often found bringing books to Lysithea to help her find new topics to talk to the children about. Sometimes, he would cover for her when Lysithea went to visit her parents.

Despite her unprecedented success as the new archbishop and the first leader of the United Kingdom of Fódlan, Byleth found herself staring out the balcony, wondering when she would spot a white wyvern streaking through the sky. Several nobles have offered themselves or their sons as potential suitors—all of whom were rejected. It was a political nuisance, and Byleth made it clear she had no intention of marriage until the nation was more stable. Not only was it a partial truth, but it also bought time for Claude to return. There were still Imperial loyalists and a few factions of Those Who Slither in the Dark to deal with, not to mention skirmishes between the borders. There were days that Seteth would visit her in her quarters to find her speaking to her wyvern or a cat that found its way inside. Seteth and Flayn knew she was lonely, but they couldn’t do much to help.

It was during one such moment that Seteth informed her that scouts from the Knights of Seiros found the hideout of the last faction of Imperial loyalists. They were planning to meet up with the last of Those Who Slither in the Dark and march on Derdriu. Byleth immediately held a war council meeting later that day. At her request, each of the Golden Deer was summoned back to the monastery to provide support for the incoming battle. Hide arrived shortly after her whistle. Petting the top of the falcon’s head, she placed a small scroll in its pouch.

_In two weeks’ time, the storm will chase daybreak in the pious east. _

A simple coded, but necessary correspondence to Claude would at least alert him of their activities. After that, she could finally focus on stabilizing the peace in her kingdom. A page knocked on her door. A small wave of her hand reinforced Hide’s protection spell, and he was sent away to Almyra. 

“Your Majesty,” the boy said with a bow. “You have received a royal messenger from Almyra.”

“Excuse me?” Byleth asked, abruptly standing up to startle the boy. 

“Y-Y-You have a royal messenger from Almyra.” Her gaze softened, attempting to ease the boy’s nerves. 

“Thank you. Please fetch yourself something to eat in the kitchens. I’ll be down shortly.” The boy bowed again gratefully before being relieved of his duty. Byleth sighed. A messenger…that was all she was going to get in terms of official news. Begrudgingly, she put her archbishop regalia on to enforce her authority.

By the time she got to the audience chamber, Seteth had cleared it of students and clergymen. The Almyran messenger knelt before her. 

“Welcome to Garreg Mach. I thank you for traveling so far to deliver this message. Please know that you will be given provisions and a room to rest in before you return to your travels.”

“Thank you, your Majesty. I am here to deliver a request from the newly coronated King of Almyra.” Seteth and Flayn both sucked in a breath. Byleth just gave the messenger a polite nod to continue before Seteth could dare try to cut in.

“As part of his duties as the new King, his royal highness formally requests a meeting with the Archbishop, Byleth Eisner, three weeks from today. He intends to formally introduce himself, discuss opening the trade markets and maintaining peace between the two nations as well as…” the messenger paused. “Discussing a possible interest in marriage. To quote the King himself, he stated that he has heard ‘far and wide about the Archbishop’s unparalleled beauty and strength.’ He wishes to see if there is merit in this.” 

Flayn stifled a laugh at the proposition, while Seteth nearly choked on his own spit. It took everything Byleth had to not burst out laughing, knowing that the true perpetrator was Claude. She needed to act as if she were enraged or, at the very least, annoyed by that portion of the proposition. It was only for a brief moment, but she allowed a smirk to slip through her façade. Knowing the political consequences of not accepting an offer, she decided she had to unwillingly accept. She breathed out slowly, though it seemed like an annoyed sigh to the messenger.

“I will have my people prepare for the King’s arrival immediately. However, the discussion of opening trade lines is entirely contingent on guaranteeing the safety of my people as well as his own. As for the talk of a **political **marriage, the King must’ve heard talk of how I have rejected every suitor presented to me thus far. He should be warned of his impending rejection, but I will be open to a discussion out of respect for the new King.” This time, both Flayn and Seteth were left gawking at her response. 

“In regards to the trade markets, his Majesty has requested that I present you with three Almyran merchants. If their goods are to your taste, he asks that you choose to station them in the marketplace right here in Garreg Mach, so you may observe them personally.”

On cue, three merchants stepped forward with a crate of their goods. The first was a coffee merchant. The scent of the coffee beans made Byleth’s mouth water—it has been several years since she’s had Almyran coffee, not to mention it was one of Jeralt’s favorite drinks. The second was a tea merchant, and his inventory included Almyran Pine Needle tea. The third was a young woman, selling plush objects for children. It was an odd choice, but Byleth realized it was to appeal to her humanity. After all, she did help establish orphanages for the children of war. 

“I will approve on the condition that each merchant be shadowed by a Knight of Seiros to help with the observation.”

The royal messenger accepted. With the current negotiations completed, the man was escorted out of the audience chamber. Seteth immediately descended on Byleth.

“What on earth were you thinking?” he reprimanded. “You didn’t even give me a chance to intervene!”

“Seteth, you know as well as I that the war has taken its toll on the people. Expanding our markets would first and foremost bolster our people and the economy, but also be a first step in opening the border towards Almyra.”

“You know the people of Fódlan do not have good experiences with the Almyrans, to put it lightly.”

“And I am aware that the Almyrans have suffered because of our own hostilities. Yet somehow, Claude was able to have Duke Goneril and Nader, the best Almyran general, get along based on their mutual respect of strength in battle and a common goal.”

“Curious that you mention Claude considering we haven’t had any correspondence from him for the past…three months? No one knows about his whereabouts nor have there been any sightings of a white wyvern. You supposedly don’t know, yet you wear the ring he gave you. You accepted the ring, yet you’re open to discussing a potential marriage negotiation with the neighboring King. Forgive me for my bluntness, but there is nothing right about this situation.”

At the mention of the ring, Byleth winced. She didn’t know Seteth knew about that. She started wearing gloves as soon as she left the infirmary and hoped to pass it off as an ugly scar from her battles. Anger was starting to churn her stomach. _There was no way for him to know…_

“I will **not** have you question my loyalty nor hint at infidelity, Seteth,” she said, her tone barely veiling her seething rage. “The ring. Who told you?” Byleth was ready to interrogate the entire monastery if she had to. 

“No one. Hilda, Manuela, and I walked in on you two sleeping with the rings in the infirmary.” Byleth’s face blanched. _Hilda **and** Manuela?_ There had to have been more people that knew by this point. Now, they would all think she was unfaithful. She was starting to panic, not wanting this news to spread, but also knowing that she had to start damage control before news broke out that she accepted the Almyran king for a potential marriage negotiation. Ironically, this was one of the times she needed Claude’s schemes to slip out of a situation, but alas, Byleth painfully aware she was on her own.

“Just because I accepted a potential negotiation doesn’t mean that I won’t turn it down. Claude would understand the necessity of political schemes to benefit the people.”

The words felt empty coming out of her mouth. It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. The silence was uncomfortably loud. Seteth seemed angry, almost disappointed—an emotion she hadn’t seen from him. Flayn broke it with her optimism. 

“Brother, I believe we have troubled the Professor enough. Give her some time to think on her decision and prepare for what’s to come. I trust that the Professor knows what’s best.” With a gentle tug of his arm, Seteth and Flayn left the audience chamber. Byleth never felt so alone. She wasn’t sure she could keep up with all of the reports, the meetings, the war councils, and now this. With a loud whistle, Byleth summoned her wyvern. She needed to clear her mind in the skies and to hide her excitement that she had three weeks left until she saw Claude again.

* * *

Byleth was standing in the middle of a sunken, flaming pit, surrounded by her Golden Deer. Felix and Sylvain flanked her sides, cutting down arrows and magic that were thrown their way. Lysithea and Marianne were throwing spells from behind them. The dark mages had them surrounded. 

“We need to get to higher ground,” Felix muttered. He was right. The smoke from the encircling flames was gathering in the pit they were in. Byleth had to admit it was a smart tactic, one she did not account for. The last faction of the Imperial Loyalists and Those Who Slither in the Dark caught them by surprise with an immediate pincer attack. Byleth let Leonie, Hilda, Raphael, and Ignatz join the Knights of Seiros on a full-out attack while she tried to draw out the mages from behind the trees. It led to her being in caught in their trap. She knew her best chance was sending the Golden Deer out of the trap and hoping that they drew enough attention from the mages before she got smoked out. 

“I know,” Byleth said, placing a hand on his back. The Crest of Flames glowed in the air briefly.

“Professor, what are you do-?” Felix’s question was answered as he was warped outside of the sunken pit. She heard him let out a battle cry, which was followed by thuds of bodies dropping. 

“Sylvain, you’re next.”

“You can’t be serious.” Sylvain stepped out of her reach, clearly not wanting to leave her behind. 

“I’ll be fine if you help Felix take them out and regroup with the rest of the main forces. I’m sure there’s more reinforcements on the way. Staunch the flow.” With that last command, she placed a hand on his shoulder and warped him out of the pit. She coughed as the smoke started to get thicker. More mages appeared on the edge of the pit to keep the fires going. 

“Professor, what are we going to do?” asked Marianne before she succumbed to a coughing fit. 

“Wrap cloth around your nose and mouth to help filter out as much of the smoke as possible. Lysithea, warp Marianne out. I have one use left, and that’ll be you. I need you all to clear out the mages while I keep the bait. I’ll be fine, I promise.” Marianne used one last Heal on Byleth before departing with a solemn, yet determined look on her face. Lysithea clung to Byleth’s arm tightly.

“We’ll get you out, that’s my promise.” Lysithea pressed a spare Concoction into Byleth’s waist pouch. Bolganone was thrown at the two, but the young mage parried it with her shield before launching Hades back at the offending mage. Byleth let the chain-link of the Sword of the Creator skewer as many opponents as possible to put a pause in the attacks. With a reassuring pat on the head, Byleth sent Lysithea away. She remained in the center of the pit, dancing away from arrows and magic attacks while letting her blade take down the enemies closest to her. If only she had a way to scale the walls of the pit… If she had brought her wyvern, this wouldn’t have been an issue, another misstep on her planning. Byleth decided that she would time her next attack to give herself a running start to climb out. 

Before she was able to ready her sword, a Fire spell grazed her side, leaving half her cloak charred and burning. She ripped off the rest of her ridiculous Enlightened One regalia to prevent from being burned along with it. Luckily, her undershirt and armor survived. She hissed at the burn on her leg and took a quick swig of Lysithea’s Concoction to ease the pain. A slight shift in the air alerted her to a battalion of wyverns that flew overhead from the east.

_Was the situation so bad that they called reinforcements? Are those the enemy reinforcements? Did I make a horrible mistake?_

She pressed herself against the side of the pit to breathe in some of the fresh air. The mages stopped their attacks, focusing elsewhere. She heard Hilda shouting commands overhead followed by Raphael’s booming yell. Arrows were speeding through the air, leaving a high-pitched whistle in their wake as they cut through the smoke and buried themselves in their victims’ flesh. Despite the pain, Byleth began to climb, hoping her burned skin wouldn’t crack from the exertion. The smoke was thinning, urging her to press on. A lilac-armored hand reached down to help her up. Lorenz.

“Your Majesty, please hurry. The battle was far worse than we feared. An unknown wyvern battalion has joined the fray. They seem to share the same enemy, but there’s no indication that they won’t turn on us.”

Byleth nodded in acknowledgement and thanked him. He winced at her scorched leg and offered her the last of his Vulnerary. 

“Please take me to the rest of the troops.” Lorenz quickly obliged, helping her on to his horse. Lance and sword at the ready, the two made their way to the trees to use it as cover. It didn’t work. A Titanus loomed at the edge of the woods, and Lorenz didn’t see it until it was too late. The mechanical monster swung its sword at their heads. Lorenz and his steed ducked their heads as low as they could, but Byleth didn’t have the time. She could only raise the Sword of the Creator to block it. The momentum of the blow threw her clear off the horse and up above the trees. Branches embedded themselves in her skin, and she cried out in pain. Lorenz and the others yelled for her below. The Sword of the Creator fell out of her hands as she tried to reach for something, anything to slow her fall. Instinctively, she reached towards the sun, wondering if she could turn back time again. A turn of her wrist only proved that the power of the Divine Pulse was continuing to evade her since she woke up from the second coma. She tried to use her wyvern rider training to right herself in the air and perhaps use a spell to soften the blow. Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud roar that nearly blew her eardrums out. 

For the second time in mere moments, the breath was knocked out of her by a colliding body. Pain shot up her sides as she landed on something inhumanly hard. Her breath came out in gasps. 

Byleth took in her surroundings. All she could smell was a stank, fishy breath of a wyvern. All she could see was white, white, white. Muta unfurled his wings, blinding her with the sunlight. His claws were wrapped around her torso. Though he did his best not to crush her, the impact of the fall left a few of her ribs cracked. Placing a hand on the wyvern’s shoulder, Byleth shakily got up. Muta shook out his wings and growled at the woods. His saddle was lopsided and yanked over too much on one side. A yellow cloth was torn at one of the belts.

An explosion in the woods drew their attention. Byleth limped as quickly as she could towards the sound. She knew it had to have been the Titanus that threw her, but she wasn’t sure if the Golden Deer were taking it out or it was the opposite. Popping a Concoction, she drew her Silver Sword. 

“Professor?” Lysithea asked, appearing from behind a tree. Her white hair was disheveled, and one of her hair ornaments were hanging on by a thread. She grinned as she returned the Sword of the Creator. “There’s no need to worry about that Titanus anymore.” Byleth raised an eyebrow. Though she knew to never doubt Lysithea’s strength and intelligence, she knew that Titanus had to have been a challenge to take with even a few people. “Don’t worry, I had help.”

“Hey, Teach.” Claude stepped out of the shadows, wearing his full Barbarossa armor. Byleth couldn’t help, but stare dumbfounded. He was here a week early. Her excitement left her breathless, as if she already didn’t have a hard time breathing… A sly grin erupted into a full-blown smile as he picked Byleth up into a hug, her sword dropping at their feet. She desperately clung to him, burying her face in his neck and relishing the warmth of his arms around her waist. 

“Claude…” she murmured. Noticing her slight wince from her cracked ribs, he gingerly lowered her back down to the ground and pulled away just enough to kiss her. Byleth slid her fingers into his hair as if to hold on to the kiss for a few more moments. Their foreheads pressed together softly as the two tried to catch their breaths. She rubbed her nose against his. “I missed you so much.”

“And I you,” he teased, pulling her hand towards his lips for another gentle kiss. “It’s about time we return to our troops, don’t you think?” Byleth nodded and started to limp back out of the woods. Claude pulled her back by the arm. “You can’t limp under my watch, my love. Nor will I let Hilda carry you again.” He knelt in front of her with his arms reaching back. She paused. “C’mon Teach. You know you want to.” With a sigh, Byleth relented and wrapped her arms around his neck. She took Failnaught and slung it over her shoulder. 

“Claude…your stupid collar is in my face,” Byleth complained as she tried to find a way to tuck her chin on his shoulder without the collar jutting into her cheek. Claude couldn’t help it; he simply laughed. 

Reaching the clearing, the couple noticed the rest of the Golden Deer gathering the troops and doing roll call to see how many casualties and injuries there were. Nader and the rest of the Almyran troops were gathering what appeared to be children. Byleth frowned. She had heard of the torturous blood experiments on children to see if they could draw on the power of multiple crests. It was akin to a fate worse than death in most scenarios. After Lysithea explained that she was one of the few successful experiments, she had her suspicion that Edelgard was another case. Her anger flared. 

“Claude, put me down.” His arms tightened their grip on her legs, and he turned his head sideways to look at her. “Please.”

“Your Majesty,” Lorenz interrupted.

“Yes?” Both the Archbishop and the King turned to face him.

“…I was referring to Byleth.” The unspoken question was obvious in the lilt of Lorenz’s statement.

“Oh. Right, of course,” Claude responded, setting her down gently. His ears were turning pink. Byleth tried to hold in a chuckle and ended up coughing. Nader noticed.

“Your Majesty, our troops are all accounted for,” Nader said with a hearty laugh.

“Thanks, Nader. We’ll march together back to Garreg Mach with the Archbishop. Let’s hope they’ve started their preparations because we did arrive a week ahead of schedule,” Claude answered, giving Lorenz a quick wink. The noble’s face blanched with understanding. Some of the knights muttered amongst themselves, unsure what to make of this information. 

“You can’t be serious. You left me to do your dirty work while you ascended the throne to ALMYRA?!”

“Technically speaking, I already established a system in the Leicester Alliance, so it shouldn’t have been too terrible for you…unless you couldn’t control the roundtable conferences?”

“As if,” Lorenz scoffed. 

“All our troops are accounted for and ready to return home,” Hilda announced as she and Marianne rejoined the clearing. “Oh, hello Nader, fancy seeing you here… wait, why are you here?”

“I led a small envoy of Almyran troops as reinforcements, thanks to an anonymous tip,” Claude answered, looking at Byleth as she knelt in front of the children. 

“Of course, the Professor contacted you,” Hilda said. “Does this mean you’re officially the King of Almyra then?” She noticed Marianne quickly join Byleth, tending to the Archbishop’s wounds and those of the children as well. 

“Nothing gets past you, Hils.”

“I don’t spend my time helping out at the roundtable conferences for no reason, Cla- your Majesty.” The title felt very odd to be used on Claude. At the same time, Hilda couldn’t help, but be proud of her best friend. The tenacious schemer always got what he wanted regardless of his ever-adapting methods. 

“Thank you, both of you, for watching over things while I was gone, especially Byleth.”

* * *

The journey back was quiet and peaceful. Byleth’s torso and leg were bandaged as they recovered. Claude could feel her getting tired as more of her weight leaned back against his chest. He knew she knew how to hold her riding form as a passenger, but he still wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her steady. She was tired—he could feel it. He couldn’t tell if it was from months carrying the burdens on her own, or if it was because she was finally letting herself feel the exhaustion that was building up in her bones. Muta was tired too, so the wyvern focused on an efficient flight, using every air stream to his advantage. 

“Hey Teach, the sky isn’t a great place to fall asleep.”

“I know,” Byleth muttered, leaning her head back on his shoulder. “Just give me a few minutes to close my eyes.” Claude tickled her stomach. 

“Nope, we’re almost there. You’ll end up a flying hazard.”

She groaned in response. 

“What were you discussing with the children?”

“You know Lysithea’s circumstance?” Claude nodded. “Well, they’re the final round of experiments of Those Who Slither in the Dark. I’m having Manuela tend to them, and I’m going to personally watch over them at the orphanage until they decide their own paths themselves. There were four children—two boys and two girls. Only one girl spoke, and all she said was, ‘Seiros.’ I’m going to have to break the news to them later that I’m no saint.”

“Well, I’ll be here to help with them too. We’ll have to juggle our time between Almyra and Fódlan for a bit, but once things are settled down, we’ll take care of them.”

“Yeah well…we still have that marriage proposition to discuss amongst other things.” She chuckled as Claude pulled her right hand in for a kiss. 

“Your Majesty, I thought we pre-emptively discussed this prior to my departure.”

“Another conversation wouldn’t hurt, I think,” she teased back before returning to another important topic. “Why did you send yourself as a reinforcement without telling me?”

“Well…at first, I just wanted to surprise you and garner trust in an alliance. Shortly after receiving your message, a scout came and told me of a shady group of merchants that were hugging the border. Further investigation by yours truly made me realize that the last faction in the east was amassing many supplies for an army that was larger than the current Knights of Seiros. At that point, I spoke with Nader and set up a covert envoy to intercept them in battle. We had no time to send you a message. I was worried because I couldn’t find you, but Hilda told me you were in a flaming pit. I turned back, but the next thing I knew, I saw your body clearing the treeline and the only thing I could do was jump off and hope Muta had enough time to save you.”

The wyvern rumbled with the mention of his name. Byleth patted his neck gratefully in response.

“Thank you,” she murmured, leaning back further into Claude’s embrace. 

* * *

A few chaotic days later, a celebratory feast was held to mark the true end of the war and to welcome their Almyran guests. The whole monastery was buzzing with the news of the new King and his proclamation to foster peace between the two nations. Common folk clamored at the gates to get a glance at the royal guest and were delightfully surprised to see Claude standing at Byleth’s side, greeting the people. The rest of the Golden Deer were in just as much shock as Lorenz, with the exception of Hilda, of course. At his request, the Golden Deer only referred to him as “Your Majesty” only when around other nobles. Claude very much preferred the company of his friends than the other nobles who swarmed him in attempt to curry his favor. She could see the tightness in his eyes as he greeted everyone kindly to maintain the friendly atmosphere. Nobles who treated him as nothing more than a nuisance were now ready to grovel at his feet for a chance at improving their status. It sickened Byleth, which is why she announced the celebratory feast to force the nobles to focus their attention elsewhere. After the feast, the nobles would return to their lands, while political discussions between Almyra and Fódlan were to resume. 

Byleth sighed as Hilda, Marianne, and Lysithea tucked her hair into a braided bun. The bobby pins were much too tight, and she yanked out a few loose strands to frame her face and release the tension in her scalp. 

“Professor, we worked so hard to get your hair right,” Hilda complained. Lysithea and Marianne just chuckled.

“We all know the Professor can’t be too uptight in the realm of fashion. She was a mercenary after all,” Lysithea teased. Byleth grinned as she patted the dagger she had strapped to her thigh. It was a habit for her to have a dagger on her person at all times.

Luckily, Byleth’s dress would only enable such a habit. A slit on her right side trailed all the way to the middle of her thigh. The rest of the dress hugged her body to accentuate the curves she was bestowed. Thick, satin straps crisscrossed behind her neck leaving a diamond cut out that dove to the small of her back. Though the dress appeared to be an ebony black, the color seamlessly faded into a midnight blue by the bottom of the skirt. A slight turn under the ballroom lights would be enough to show it off. Byleth would stun the ballroom tonight. Hilda made sure of that. With the advice of Marianne, she clipped a small golden branch of the Enlightened One regalia into Byleth’s hair, giving the archbishop the proper air of authority she now wielded. 

“You’re all set, Professor,” announced Marianne, a nervous blush dusting her cheeks. Byleth stood up and patted the skirt of her dress. She was getting more accustomed to life at court, though she still felt suffocated at times. Tonight, she was more nervous about seeing Claude in such attire. The last ball they attended was when they were student and professor, and he dragged her out onto the dance floor with a mischievous wink. She was wondering if she would be able to return the favor tonight without it being odd. Though Byleth was archbishop, she still felt a little unsure about whether or not she could do things that were more like her, without breaking some sort of uptight noble rule. The first war council meeting she had resulted in her slamming her fists on the table and breaking off a chunk of it, sending goblets to the floor. She was told that was “inappropriate behavior.” Though the Golden Deer laughed, the other nobles did not. 

Leonie met them outside of the archbishop’s quarters. She was wearing a lovely pantsuit that was cream on top and black at the bottom, with a navy blue men’s jacket. Byleth noted that it showed off the mercenary’s muscles quite well. Her ginger hair was swept into a cascading, side ponytail, giving the ensemble a feminine touch. Leonie raised her arm, and Byleth took it ready to be escorted down to the hall. 

“I will see you ladies, later. I expect to see you all dancing with dates,” Byleth teased.

“I already got one!” Marianne answered, gleefully grabbing Hilda by the hand. Lysithea chuckled and headed toward Cyril who was down the hall waiting for her. 

Upon seeing the ballroom, Byleth hesitated. One of the things she hated most upon entering was being announced, especially since custom dictates that the host always enter last to prevent from embarrassing the guests. She was used to walking in unnoticed as a mercenary, but now, she couldn’t walk anywhere without people staring at her every move. 

“Announcing the arrival of Archbishop Byleth Eisner, the first leader of the United Kingdom of Fódlan!” Seteth’s voice boomed among the crowded ballroom. Much to her relief, she was able to see most of the Golden Deer along the pathway to her table, which was at the head of the room. The nobles clapped and bowed as she passed. With a slight twirl, Leonie passed Byleth to Lorenz. Her momentum only created a chain of twirls as she was passed to each member of the Golden Deer. Between each twirl, she saw the faces of her former students. Sylvain. Felix. Marianne. Hilda. Raphael. Ignatz. Lysithea. Until she finally ended up at the head of the room, by her table, and into the arms of Claude. 

It was unfair for her to already be dizzy and breathless by the time she saw him. She couldn’t help, but stare into his emerald eyes, trying to steady herself without making too much of a scene. His black tunic cut a deep-V down his chest. Golden embellishments lined the edges of the V as well as the seams of his sleeves. He had on the usual yellow cape, but it was pinned to his shoulder with a white broach in the shape of a wyvern. A golden sash with green, red, and white tassels was wrapped around his waist. The royal Almyran colors seemed to pop more against his all black ensemble. She was stunned. Claude chuckled before taking her left hand in his. 

“It’s about time this came off, don’t you think?” he asked, gently pulling her glove off to reveal the emerald ring on her finger. Silently, Byleth did the same to see her mother’s ring on his finger, finally resized. Placing a hand at her waist, King von Riegan swept Archbishop Eisner along for the first dance of the night, and the second, and the third. 

It was said that the two rarely parted from each other the rest of the night, occasionally bumping into other pairs, including Lorenz and Leonie, Judith and Nader, and Lysithea and Cyril. Though many believed that to be the first night of the royal couple’s engagement, a very few knew otherwise. After several months of public courtship, two wedding ceremonies took place, one to respect the traditions of each nation. Many Almyran soldiers challenged their new Queen to a duel to test her strength, and none succeeded, not even the former Queen of Almyra. Celebrations lasted for months as the pair were traveled across their lands to meet their people. Several years passed before the hostilities between Almyra and Fódlan quieted to a dull murmur. With that, the assassination attempts also calmed.

Hailed as the Ruler of Dawn and King of Unification, Byleth and Claude always found a way to spend time together to make up for their lost years. Some nights were spent among the clouds on the backs of their wyverns. Others were spent in each other’s arms. The couple were often found in the library as Claude continued to tutor Byleth in the Almyran language. Never wanting to forget the horrific years of battle, the two created a memorial dedicated to all the students lost in the war. Though met with controversy, Byleth was adamant about making sure the names of each student lost were engraved in stone, including Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd and Edelgard von Hresvelg. 

During restless nights, the two would be often caught sparring in the training room. Battles and skirmishes became few and far in between, but their skills never dulled. As the years passed, the clashing of weapons would often be interrupted by the awed gasps and laughter of their children, a son and daughter. Claude continued to love Byleth fiercely for the rest of their days, well after they abdicated their throne. In return, Byleth and their children, continued to be the everlasting joy that shone in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for so much for sticking with me and this story until the very end! I loved writing every bit of this and did not think the story would ever evolve into something so complex! I do plan on writing one-shots (some based on this version of their ending) at my own leisure. If you have any prompts you'd like me to do, please let me know, and I'll try and get to it.
> 
> My Twitter (if you'd like): @capriSun153


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